


‘Twas the Knight Before Yuletide

by squilf



Series: Sir Glorious Hair [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Party, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Mistletoe, My First Fanfic, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Party Planning, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-03
Updated: 2011-01-18
Packaged: 2020-02-04 16:05:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18607894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squilf/pseuds/squilf
Summary: In the fortnight leading up to Yuletide, Merlin learns some important lessons about friendship, drinking, Gaius’ porridge, finding a lost sweetheart, mistletoe, and, most of all, love.





	1. A Knight of Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> 26 April 2019:
> 
> I originally published this on [LiveJournal](https://squilf.livejournal.com/720.html) and [FanFiction.net](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6616808/1/Twas-the-Knight-Before-Yuletide) way, way back in 2011.
> 
> I’m currently going through and archiving my back catalogue from the ff.net Dark Ages on AO3. This is my first _ever_ fanfiction, so it holds a special place in my heart, but of course, it’s not the best written! There are a lot of things I did in this fic that I wouldn’t do now, but I was a teenager, and I learned a lot as I went along. Writing fanfiction honestly improved my writing so much (I mean, writing is literally what I do for a living now!) and it introduced me to the fan community, who are some of the best and most supportive people I’ve ever met.

“Another round, Mary!”

“Are you sure you’ve not had enough, Gwaine?”

“Ah, Leon, you clearly don’t know me well. I’m not even started!”

Merlin couldn’t stop himself from grinning as his friend grabbed another tankard of mead from the barwoman, much to the displeasure of sensible Sir Leon. Since returning to Camelot, work had been ceaseless. In her short reign, Queen Morgana had caused chaos. She had separated the families, ruined the homes and taken the lives of any who opposed her. The people were wary, and the presence of the knights made them feel safer. Gwaine had been on patrol with the other knights every night until now, and he’d invited Merlin to join them down the tavern. If Gwaine was going to let his (soft and flowing) hair down, Merlin was going to be there. Actually, he really liked the way Gwaine’s hair flicked as he tossed his head, either in the heat of combat or just when he was talking. He’d been quietly disappointed when Lancelot had cut his. It had made him look so innocent and youthful. Merlin wasn’t a fan of it on Sir Leon though – it was just a bit bedraggled-looking on him. And yet it made Gwaine look rugged and roguish.

“Is he always like this?” Lancelot asked Merlin, suddenly stirring him from his daydream.

“Huh?”

“Gwaine.”

Lancelot nodded towards the knight, who was downing his tankard.

“Oh. Er, yes.”

“God help me.”

Merlin laughed. He had not been this happy for a long time. His best friends in the world, Lancelot and Gwaine, were living in Camelot. No more flitting to and fro, leaving Merlin just when he’d become fond of someone.

“What about you, handsome? Want anything?”

It was Mary, the barwoman. She had met Merlin before, (and liked what she saw), when he had come to her tavern with Arthur. It had been destroyed when Cenred’s army had attacked her village, which lay on the outskirts of Camelot. She had only just repaired it from the brawl Merlin had accidentally started. Mary had run to Camelot, and now she was working in the Prince’s Pride, Arthur’s least favourite tavern. Her liking of Merlin was obvious, and a source of teasing from his friends. He was both surprised and pleased that for once, someone had shown an interest in him. It made a pleasant change from every girl falling for Arthur.

“Oh, no thankyou, Mary,” he said, slightly embarrassed, “But, er, thanks for asking.”

“It’s no problem, for you,” Mary said, giving him an admiring look before moving on to the next table.

The knights burst into laughter as she left. Well, all except Percival, who was staring after Mary. He seemed a little confused. That wasn’t really surprising; he seemed to spend his life in a haze of constant bewilderment. As Lancelot said, his body was strong, but his mind was… less so.

“You got a good thing going there, Merlin,” Gwaine said, raising his eyebrows mischievously, “I didn’t have you down as a player.”

“I’m not!”

“A-ha?”

“Gwaine, if anyone here is, it’s you,” Elyan said, from his seat next to Leon.

This was met by a chorus of agreement from everyone around the table.

“I’m not that bad,” said Gwaine, grinning in such a playful way that it gave his fib away, “Well… maybe. It’s not my fault if the ladies can’t say no.”

“I feel sorry for them,” Lancelot muttered under his breath.

“That isn’t true, though, is it?” Merlin said to Gwaine triumphantly, “Gwen turned you down.”

Gwaine shrugged.

“Yeah, well she had a better prospect than me. Who’d choose a rascal over a handsome prince?”

Merlin watched him flick his hair off his face. _Me_ , he thought. Then, _That was very enthusiastic, Merlin._

“She’s done well, your sister,” Gwaine said, turning to Elyan.

“I know,” Elyan nodded, “I thought she was lucky to be the maid of the king’s ward. Turns out she was luckier than that.”

It was now common knowledge that Gwen, the serving-maid, was involved with Prince Arthur. They hadn’t intended the news to be spread about Camelot, but then they were such an obvious couple. Merlin had seen them snogging in some corridor of the castle at least three times recently, which was more than he ever wanted to see. He was happy that his friends had found one another, but such open displays of affection made him feel awkward. And more than a little jealous. Not of Arthur, or Gwen. Well, not anymore. In spite of Arthur’s utter prattishness, Merlin _had_ felt something for him. The Great Dragon had told him their destinies lay together but now he knew it wasn’t to be. He surprised himself at how little disappointed he’d been when he found out the prince and Gwen were together. No, he wasn’t jealous of Gwen anymore, but he was jealous because he was well aware that he had no-one to show such fondness to himself. Not that he thought a lot about girls; he rarely did, and normally that was only if one had actually walked into him or done something particularly unusual, like dance on the table or win an arm-wrestling contest or try to kill Arthur. (Oddly, the most frequent of these was the last.)

Sometimes Merlin wondered if he would ever fall in love. It seemed that everyone did at least once. Even Gaius had. But he was still alone, separated from Alice, the woman he wanted to marry. Maybe Freya had been Merlin’s only chance at love. He’d cared about the pretty druid girl, felt a connection to her, and felt the power of the magic that they both possessed. But oh no, Arthur had to bloody go and kill her. He had felt her loss, and been miserable for days after. Arthur had thought he was upset because he threw water over Merlin. What a prat. Merlin wanted to yell, “No, actually, it was because you murdered my girlfriend.” His anger and sadness had gone away soon enough, though – he hadn’t known her that long, and well, she did turn into a hideous monster every night. She was still about, though, somehow present in the lake Merlin had dumped her body in. No, not dumped, _put_. He _put_ her body in the lake, that sounded more romantic and less like he’d murdered her. (Which was what _Arthur_ had done.) Despite Freya’s continued existence, he doubted that he could really keep up a relationship with an undead entity. Maybe they’d be reunited when he was dead, that sounded nice. Or maybe they wouldn’t. Who was to say they’d think to dump him in the lake too? It all seemed rather hopeless.

Merlin felt Lancelot tense a little next to him. He felt bad that he’d mentioned Gwen now, but she was going to come up in conversation sooner or later.

“I wish her all the happiness in the world,” Lancelot said, his voice stilted.

Gwaine leaned over the table conspiratorially. He could sniff a secret here. Either he was very shrewd or it was a badly-kept secret. Given his state of partial inebriation, Merlin was inclined towards the latter.

“I sense a history here,” Gwaine said in a low tone.

Leon looked a little taken aback.

“Really, Gwaine, I don’t think it’s proper to talk in that way about Gwen. I don’t really think that she and Lancelot –”

He cut short when he saw the expression on Lancelot’s face.

“Oh. So you do have a history?” Leon asked, intrigued in this new revelation despite himself.

Lancelot shrugged.

“It was nothing really. When I first came to Camelot, she and Merlin were very good friends to me.”

“Yeah,” Merlin chuckled, “Gwen was a bit of a better friend than me, though.”

“Well, she was kind,” Lancelot went on, “I wanted more than anything to stay here with her, and I knew she wanted me to as well. But I did not feel ready. Then, about a year later, our paths crossed again. I could not deny my feelings, but once more, we were separated. And now we meet again. It was too much for me to expect her to feel the same after I left her twice.”

Leon looked heartbroken by this story.

“So you came back and she was with another?” he breathed, “The man who you looked up to as a leader?”

Lancelot nodded, and Leon shook his head in disbelief.

“That is so tragic.”

 _Tonight is full of revelations_ , thought Merlin, _It seems Leon’s quite a romantic_.

Gwaine widened his eyes.

“Well I’ll be damned. Has anyone else been involved with Gwen?”

Merlin knew he wasn’t expecting another man to join in.

“Er, well…” he said, running his finger around the rim of his tankard.

Everyone at the table stared in disbelief.

“You?” asked Lancelot, spluttering.

“I said he was a player!” Gwaine declared.

“We were never involved,” Merlin said, “But she did kiss me once.”

“How did this happen?” Lancelot pressed.

“I’d been poisoned,” Merlin said, as if this was a normal occurrence, because it was for him; near-death situations involving himself and Arthur happened at strangely regular intervals, occurring almost every week, “It took some time for Arthur to find the antidote. Gaius and Gwen took care of me, but it looked like I was a goner. They gave me the antidote, but they thought I’d died. When I woke up, Gwen just suddenly kissed me. She didn’t give me a chance!”

Gwen was his closest female friend, so he could tell that, despite her happiness at being with Arthur, she was at a loose end. She was a lady’s maid and now there was no first lady of Camelot. Gwen had always been close with Morgana, and she was still hurt by her betrayal. Upset and idle, Gwen was now doing odd jobs, helping Gaius in his workshop, Elyan in his forge, and Arthur in his conferences. Merlin knew she wasn’t settled; he thought she needed an occupation. Like Merlin, she was from a peasant family, so she was used to hard work. Being without some employment threw her off kilter, and she was now trying to adjust to the very different situation she now found herself in.

“Well, it’s understandable that Gwen kissed you,” Leon said, “It’s natural to be more affectionate towards a friend if he nearly died.”

“Oh, so that is why you were cuddling Elyan when he was wounded by Morgana’s immortal men,” said Percival, as if something had just clicked in his brain.

“It wasn’t cuddling!” Leon protested.

“It looked like it to me,” Percival said, adamant.

Gwaine clapped a hand on Elyan’s shoulder before he could join the cuddling debate.

“You need to keep tabs on your sister,” he advised him.

“She certainly seems to be getting around,” Elyan said in agreement.

“I’m sure she will make a fine Queen,” said Lancelot, loyal to the last.

Leon nodded, remembering his sensibilities.

“Yes. Arthur needs the support of a strong woman.”

“Especially now,” Elyan added.

“Hmm, he’s a bit dreary at the moment,” Gwaine said, “All speeches and treaties and ordinances and counsellors.”

“He’s under a lot of stress, Gwaine,” Leon argued.

The knight was resolute.

“Yeah, but can’t he loosen up a little for once? It’s Yuletide soon!”

“I don’t imagine this Yuletide will be too lively,” Leon said resignedly.

“Thank God, for Gwaine’s sake,” Lancelot murmured into Merlin’s ear.

“Whyever not?” Gwaine asked, “After all his subjects have been through, don’t we deserve a knees-up?”

“I don’t think we’re going to get one,” Leon told him.

Merlin saw Gwaine’s point. Everything had been so bleak recently. He loved Yuletide – the colours, the dancing, the music, the food… He would have liked Lancelot and Gwaine’s first Yuletide in Camelot to be a merry festival. Last year’s had been marred by Uther’s grief at Morgana’s absence, but the year before, Merlin’s first Yuletide at Camelot, had been breathtaking. They had celebrated it back in Ealdor, and he had always loved it, (even if his dancing left something to be desired), but that was nothing to the explosion of colour and movement and sound in Camelot. He remembered helping Gwen to make decorations, and it had gotten him into a festive mood, full of anticipation. He had not been disappointed by the city’s Yuletide spectacle. Just thinking about it made him long for the festivities. But as Leon pointed out, that was unlikely to happen this year.

Gwaine twisted around in his seat to face the bar.

“Mary!” he called.

“Oh, no,” said Leon, “That’s enough for tonight.”

“Aww, Leon!” Gwaine whined, “Just one more?”

Leon shook his head firmly.

“We’re knights of Camelot. We have to show a good example to the people. Arthur’s already warned you to especially responsible, seeing as strictly speaking, you are still banished from Camelot.”

Gwaine pouted.

“That’s not fair. Why should I have to stop and no-one else?”

“Oh no,” said Leon, “We’re all going home now. Pay up, we need rest for tomorrow’s patrol.”

The knights groaned.

“I know it’s boring, but we’ve all got to do it,” said Leon, “Come on, everyone. Bed.”

“Yes, mum,” said Elyan.

“I don’t like your prudence,” said Gwaine decidedly to Leon, “I don’t like your joy-killing. And I don’t like your hair.”

 _He’s got a point._ Leon ignored him as they all started to get up. Well, Gwaine tried to get up, but he stumbled and crashed heavily onto the person standing next to him, which happened to be Merlin. They both ended up on the floor, Gwaine shaking with laughter. It was infectious and soon Merlin was joining in. Leon rolled his eyes. Gwaine stopped laughing and looked at Merlin seriously.

“Merlin, did I ever mention you have pretty eyes?”

“Oh God, he really is drunk,” said Lancelot.

Percival grabbed onto Gwaine and pulled him up, and Merlin crawled to his feet.

“Miss Hill, can we pay?” Leon called.

 _Miss Hill._ Leon was so proper and formal. It was actually quite sweet. Mary bustled over.

“Call me Mary, love. Are you leaving already?”

“Yes. How much do we owe you?”

“That’ll be two groats apiece, gentlemen.”

The men fished inside their pockets and handed Mary their coins. All apart from Gwaine, who was too drunk to really realise what was going on.

“You know Percy, I once had a horse like you… If I was any more drunk, I think I’d try to ride you right now…”

 _Bad imagery, Gwaine, bad imagery._ Merlin dug into Gwaine’s pockets.

“Whoa, where are your hands going, Merlin?” he asked as Merlin searched for his money.

Merlin’s fingers closed around the coins and he passed Gwaine’s two groats to Mary.

“Thankyou for your service,” she said cheerfully, as they started to leave.

Merlin walked a few steps before he realised Gwaine wasn’t with them. He turned back to see him still leaning on Percival, who awkwardly hung a little behind.

“Something I can do for you?” Mary asked, after the tall man had stood looking at her for a few seconds.

“Er…” he began, “Thankyou, Mary. I like being in your tavern.”

Mary smiled, a little perplexed.

“That’s alright, big man.”

Percival looked at her a little more, before Merlin cleared his throat.

“Er, Percival?”

The knight was so surprised that he let go of Gwaine, who fell onto the person standing in front of him, which yet again happened to be Merlin. He hit the floor hard.

“Ah, Merlin. You’re such a good friend to me. Did I mention you have nice eyes?” Gwaine said as he looked down at the boy.

The other knights, who were at the door, heard the crash and turned to see what was going on.

“Don’t make that a habit, you two,” said Lancelot, laughing quietly in amusement.

Percival yanked them to their feet and they stumbled out of the tavern.

“Well, goodnight, gentlemen,” said Leon, before stepping down the road to the knight’s quarters.

Lancelot and Merlin smiled grimly as they lugged Gwaine back with them to Gaius’ chambers. Elyan and Percival walked on to Elyan’s forge. Percival was staying there, as he didn’t mind sleeping down in the stable with the donkey that turned the wheel for the furnace.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, as he turned down the road with Percival, who dumped Gwaine onto Lancelot and Merlin, “If you’re all recovered from tonight, that is!”

Gwaine would have a terrible hangover for tomorrow’s patrol, and having him in a bad mood was not something to be taken lightly. Especially not when they were all staying in Gaius’ chambers, which was becoming quite a squeeze. Lancelot was in a spare bed in the workshop, whilst Merlin and Gwaine shared Merlin’s room. (Gwaine had slept in the workshop, but he kept knocking things over so Gaius had turfed him out.) Gaius was at his wit’s end. When Gwaine had upset a vial of foot balm, the tenth thing he’d managed to break so far, the physician had angrily told Merlin, “Do not allow any more foolish young men to roam willy-nilly around my workshop! It’s bad enough having one as a permanent fixture, let alone three.”

They crept into the chambers as quietly as they could to avoid waking the old man, which wasn’t very quiet as Gwaine was spouting drunken nonsense, Lancelot and Merlin were almost falling over as he jerked around, and the door to Merlin’s room squeaked noisily. They dumped the intoxicated knight onto Merlin’s bed.

“Will you be alright?” Lancelot asked Merlin.

“Yeah, fine. He’ll get to sleep quickly, the state he’s in.”

Lancelot smiled and patted his friend on the shoulder.

“Goodnight, Merlin.”

“’Night.”

Lancelot left the room, and Merlin sighed, looking at his semiconscious friend. He was slumped in an awkward position, so Merlin rearranged him whilst Gwaine mumbled incoherently.

“Leon’s such a mother hen,” he murmured, “‘Go to bed, Gwaine’, ‘Clean your armour, Gwaine’… even told me to cut my hair! I told him to look in the mirror!”

Merlin laughed softly. He finished putting his friend in a more comfortable position and perched on the side of the bed, looking down at him. He looked so sweet as he lay there, no longer the wayward warrior Merlin knew.

“Oh. Have you finished tucking me in?” Gwaine asked, disappointed.

“Yes. Now go to sleep.”

“Don’t I get a goodnight kiss?”

“I thought you said _Leon_ was the mother hen.”

Gwaine’s eyes flicked up to Merlin.

“I had nothing motherly in mind regarding you.”

With that, he yanked his hand, pulling Merlin onto him. The boy lay sprawled on the bed, Gwaine’s (firm and muscular) body under him.

“Hello there,” said Gwaine, his voice low.

Merlin blinked.

“Hello.”

Gwaine rolled over, so that he was lying on top of Merlin. He was heavy and Merlin felt pressed in, held down.

“You know what I’ve always liked about you, Merlin? You pull the most adorable faces. Especially when you’re confused. Like now.”

Merlin felt his stomach churn. Being so close to Gwaine was intoxicating. Or maybe that was just the alcohol.

“Gwaine… I…”

“Ssh.”

Gwaine put a finger to his lips, and the young servant bristled at his touch, staring at him.

“That’s another thing I like about you. Sometimes you look at me like I’m naked and you want it.”

 _That’s not intentional._ Merlin wasn’t nearly as drunk as he should be to pass out, and yet he felt like he was about to do just that. The same applied to doing something with Gwaine that he’d live to regret. _This has come out of nowhere._

Gwaine licked his lips. Slowly and deliberately.

“What’s it gonna be?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper, “Want to see what I can do to you? Or do you… you know… I would…”

Gwaine fought to keep his eyes open as he stumbled on his words.

“Eurgh… I…”

Then he passed out. He fell heavily onto Merlin for the third time that evening.

“Gwaine?”

No response.

 _Well that was disappointing._ Merlin sighed and somehow, after a lot of pushing, got Gwaine off him and rolled off the bed. He pulled the covers over the knight before settling down in the crumple of blankets on the floor. It was meant to be a temporary measure, until Gwaine and Lancelot moved out. Merlin tried to make himself comfortable on the hard floor. In his bed, Gwaine grunted in his sleep. Gwaine. How had Merlin even entertained the idea of him and Gwaine? The man was drunk – he obviously didn’t really mean what he’d said. And what if he had gone through with it? Merlin would have no idea what to do. His mother had told him the facts of life, but she didn’t cover ‘What to Do When a Handsome Knight Asks You to Bed’. Even if she did, Merlin guessed the answer would be to say ‘no’. He groaned and rolled over on his side. Tonight had been a night of revelations indeed.

 


	2. A Knight of Revelations

“Oh, Merlin, you’ve deigned to join the world of the living. How gracious of you.”

 _Looks like Gaius woke up on the wrong side of the bed._  Merlin rubbed his eyes and collapsed into a chair at the table next to Lancelot, who was already washed and dressed. The knight gave him a look of sympathy. They both knew a tongue-lashing was heading their way at top speed.

“Sleep well?” Gaius asked, ladling a lumpy-looking mixture into a bowl.

“Well –”

“Because I didn’t. I was rudely awoken at an ungodly hour by you two, and the fool in your room.”

Gaius shoved the bowl towards Merlin. Some of its contents slopped onto the table. It was a grey pulp, and it smelt distinctly burnt. Merlin guessed that it was supposed to be porridge. He prodded it with his spoon. Lancelot hadn’t touched his.

“Well, eat up,” said Gaius, “You’ll be late for work. And you, young man. Sir Lancelot indeed. Some bizarre enchantment must have affected Arthur’s mind when he decided to make you and Gwaine knights.”

Lancelot sighed, letting a dollop of porridge drop from the spoon into his bowl with an unpleasant splatter.

“Where is that rascal anyway?” the physician rattled on, storming towards Merlin’s room, “Gwaine! Get up this instant or I will put my leeches in your clothes!”

“He did that to me once,” Merlin said quietly, “I didn’t realise until Gwen asked me what was on my face. I’d been working for Arthur all morning and he didn’t even tell me.”

Lancelot smiled, but the bright moment was destroyed when Gaius strode into Merlin’s room and started hurling angry words at the man inside it.

“I really need to find a place to stay,” Lancelot said resignedly, “If I linger here for much longer, I think your old man might kill me.”

“If he’s going to kill you, I can’t imagine what he’s going to do to Gwaine.”

Gaius’ lecture came to a sudden end as he dragged the unfortunate knight out of bed by the ear, sat him at the table, and practically flung a bowl of mush at him.

“Morning all,” said a rather bedraggled Gwaine.

He pushed a spoonful of his breakfast into his mouth.

“Mmm,” he said, nodding as he tasted it, “Gaius, this is so delicious. You must give me the recipe. What do you put in this, pig slime?”

The old man was not amused.

“Ungrateful boy. You should be thankful for what you have, which is far more than most. You have been awarded a knighthood, the highest honour that can be bestowed upon a man. You have the chance of a new life in Camelot, one that is nobler than your previous drunken romps. You even have a friend in Merlin, who for some strange reason argues against my will for your sake, so that you can continue to clutter my chambers!”

Merlin looked down at his breakfast, avoiding Gwaine’s eyes.

“Quite frankly, you have more than is right for you to have!” the physician bellowed, clapping Gwaine round the back of the head, “Endeavour to deserve it!”

Gaius turned on his heel, grabbed a basket of herbs and thundered out, slamming the door shut behind him.

Gwaine rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

“That actually quite hurt.”

He broke into a smile.

“Seems your old man doesn’t want me around.”

Merlin shrugged, his eyes glued to the table.

“He’s just in a mood this morning.”

“Like he was last morning,” said Gwaine.

“And the morning before,” added Lancelot.

Merlin dragged his eyes upwards.

“I’m sorry. He isn’t normally like this.”

“It’s just because we’re here,” inferred Gwaine, leaning nonchalantly back in his chair.

“He’s worried about the king,” said Merlin.

The knights nodded in understanding. Uther had suffered a dreadful blow recently. His kingdom had been taken – by his daughter, no less – and Camelot had almost been ruined in her reign of fear. The king was still struggling to recover from the shock of what had happened. Gaius was doing his best for him, but at the moment it was all he could do to prescribe him drugs to keep him drowsy, else he would wake up properly and become distressed as he remembered what had just taken place.

“Don’t worry about it, Merlin,” said Lancelot, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “I’ll make enquiries about accommodation for myself today. See if anywhere’s going.”

Merlin was pleased and saddened at the same time.

“I think that’s probably a good idea,” he sighed, “I’ll miss having you around, though.”

“You won’t miss me so much when Gaius stops acting like a raging fury.”

The knight smiled, shaking Merlin’s shoulder reassuringly.

“Now, I should go,” he said, getting up, “Ugh, Patrol. Enjoy your breakfast.”

“Be with you in a minute,” said Gwaine, not bothering to get up to join Lancelot as he left the room.

 _Alone with Gwaine._  Merlin felt uncomfortable, but he tried to hide it. Gwaine groaned, running a hand down his face.

“Hung-over?” asked Merlin, picking up the untouched bowls of porridge.

“Mmm.”

“You should have seen yourself last night,” he said cheerfully, crossing the room to the window, “You were a wreck.”

“I’m sure I’ve been worse.”

Merlin could only guess what had happened  _then_. The only images his mind could provide him were disturbing to say the least. He tried to brush them aside as he set the bowls down on the windowsill and tried to pull open the window. The hinges were incredibly stiff, most likely due to Gaius’ disliking of fresh air. He said it caused a draught and made an old man cold. He certainly didn’t like it when anyone else called him old, though.

“Here, I can do that,” offered Gwaine, rising from his seat.

He gently pushed Merlin to one side, who tried not to flinch at his manhandling, and took the wooden handle on the window frame. It took Gwaine about two seconds to open the window.

“I loosened it for you,” said Merlin, as Gwaine leant offhandedly against the wall.

“I don’t think so. You were doing it wrong. You’re meant to push, not pull.”

“Oh.”

_That was embarrassing._

“I, er, I don’t suppose you remember last night at all?” Merlin asked, attempting to remain casual.

“Not a second.”

Merlin silently rejoiced. He could forget anything ever happened. Nothing happened. He just got drunk with Gwaine, his mind was addled. He probably just had a weird alcohol-induced dream that somehow got mixed up with his memory.

“Though there is one thing,” said Gwaine, in a way that made Merlin’s heart skip a beat.

“Huh?”

Gwaine looked at him intently for a few seconds.

“But nah,” he shrugged, “It’s probably nothing. I was completely hammered!”

Merlin smiled weakly and hastily picked up one of the bowls he’d left on the windowsill so he’d look busy.

“I’d better go,” said Gwaine, “I’ll see you later, then.”

He put a hand on Merlin’s arm by means of farewell, and strolled out of the room. Only when he was gone did Merlin catch his breath. Did Gwaine remember? The way that he’d spoken had been so teasing, as if there was something between them that they both knew. But he could have meant anything – when they were all talking about Gwen, when Mary was obviously partial to Merlin… or when Gwaine had pulled him onto the bed and made him an offer.

In a daze, Merlin scraped the uneaten breakfast out of the bowls out with a spoon. It wasn’t an easy task. The stuff was incredibly thick, and it stuck messily to everything it touched. The street lay below the window and if they weren’t going to eat it, at least the dogs and crows could. Although they might choke.

“Aah!”

A sudden cry in the street below startled Merlin and he dropped the spoon and bowl at once. Then there was another, shriller cry of, “Ow!” With a distinct feeling of dread, Merlin looked out of the window. Sir Leon was standing in the street below, trying his best to wipe off a glue-like substance from his head and uniform.

_Ah._

 

* * *

 

 

“I was wondering when you might show up.”

“I’m sorry,” said Merlin, hastening to the Prince’s bedside with a breakfast tray that was looking distinctly appetising after Gaius’ porridge punishment, “I had a bit of a late night.”

“Oh. Out having fun.”

Arthur sat up in bed, his irritation obvious. He bit hungrily into a chunk of bread whilst Merlin set about straightening the room. He had more of an appetite nowadays. He was working harder, longer hours in the king’s absence, and it was having an effect on him. Rebuilding Camelot was a slow process. Arthur put a brave face on it, the perfect dutiful prince, but Merlin could tell that he was praying for the King to get better, for this responsibility to be lifted from him, lest he do something wrong. Merlin wanted to reassure him, tell him what a good job he was doing, how proud Uther would be when he woke up to a strong Camelot, but whenever he tried, Arthur had to ruin the moment by being his normal prattish self.

Merlin sighed and went to pull the curtains.

“Aah,” he said painfully, his arm twinging as he reached up for the curtains, “I ache.”

“Well, perhaps you should be more responsible with how you spend your spare time.”

Merlin knew that this was nothing to do with going out last night; sleeping on the hard wooden floorboards had been uncomfortable and cramped his muscles. He normally slept in his bed, but he couldn’t when Gwaine was in it. Well, technically he could, but he wasn’t going to try. Even though it sounded cosy.

“Well, it’s Gwaine’s fault really,” said Merlin, flexing his shoulder carefully.

Arthur quirked an eyebrow.

“Gwaine made you ache?”

Merlin started.

“Oh, I don’t mean – no, I didn’t have that much fun last night! We did get a bit drunk, but no. It was hard. On the floor. I mean, I was sleeping on the floor. Gwaine was in my bed – he’s staying over, so I gave it to him. For a little while.”

Arthur pulled a face.

“Right.”

Merlin stretched his arm experimentally.

“Merlin, you seem a little… confused. You’re not still drunk?”

“No!”

Merlin whirled around to his irritating master, but failed to notice the table and chairs right in front of him. He tripped over one of the chairs, landing with his palms hitting the table, quickly followed by his head. It made a loud bang as it hit the hard wood.

“Looking a bit confused and uncoordinated there.”

“ _Aah…_ ” Merlin groaned, holding his head in his hands.

Arthur jumped out of bed, wearing that smug smirk of his. And some breeches too – though no shirt. For some reason, Arthur had recently taken to not wearing his shirt to bed, and then wandering around with it off for a while before getting dressed. Merlin guessed it made him feel manly. He could only wonder what that felt like. He didn’t really want to know.

“Oh well. Maybe that will knock some sense into you.”

Merlin gave a sarcastic grin through the pain.

“Thanks for the sympathy.  _Ow_ …”

The prince softened a little, and went over to his servant.

“Let’s have a look at that,” he said, pushing Merlin into the chair he’d tripped over and pulling his hands away from his forehead.

“Is it bad?” asked Merlin fearfully.

Arthur’s gaze was steady and serious.

“Yes. I’m afraid you will die.”

Merlin couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

“Prat,” he said, pushing Arthur away by the chest.

He sat down in the chair next to Merlin’s, chuckling quietly. It was good to see him smiling. He hadn’t done it much since they had left Camelot to find the Cup of Life all that time ago. Arthur’s smile faded, melted away like snow.

“What is it?” asked Merlin.

Arthur shrugged.

“Everything’s different now. Camelot, my father, Morgana. I’m trying my best, but… I don’t know if I’m doing things right. I feel a pale shadow to my father.”

Merlin sat up straight in his chair, the pain in his head ebbing.

“You’re not. Arthur, you’re doing well. Camelot was in ruins but now you’re rebuilding it. The people are no longer afraid. They gain strength from being shown a strong leader in times like these. And when your father recovers, he will see what you’ve achieved.”

Merlin’s tone was sincere. He was glad to tell Arthur this, and give him some support. He might have been a prince, and a royal ass, but he was also his master and, in a strange way, his friend. He’d risked his neck a hundred times to keep Arthur safe, and the prince had repaid him on that score. Although Merlin hadn’t kept count. He still reckoned he’d done a fair bit more life-saving that Arthur, though.

“Really?” Arthur asked, hope in his eyes, “I asked Gwen, and she said much the same. I should have listened to her, but I was worried that her judgement was affected by love for me.”

“Well, that’s not a problem with me,” Merlin said, a cheeky glint in his eyes.

“I know. I’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve called me a prat.”

“Nearly as many as you’ve called me an idiot.”

“Yeah, well you deserved it, though.”

Arthur tried to smile, but then leant over the table, his chin resting heavily on his hand, and groaned.

“I am so tired, Merlin, of speeches and treaties and ordinances and counsellors. If this is what being King is, it is devoid of all fun.”

Suddenly, a plan blossomed in Merlin’s mind. If it worked, it would solve a lot of problems.

“Well,” he said eagerly, “Yuletide is only a few weeks away. Don’t you think it’s time for a bit of celebration?”

“Celebration? To celebrate what?” asked Arthur gloomily.

“This!” Merlin said emphatically, “You! Camelot is safe. We have a protector keeping it so. It’d show the people that everything is back to normal again. They can relax, enjoy themselves. Share the festive spirit.”

Arthur sat up and squinted at Merlin.

“How do you think I’m going to find the time to organise a Yuletide feast? I’m up to my eyeballs in work as it is!”

A brilliant idea flashed through Merlin’s bruised head.

“Get Gwen to do it.”

“What?”

“She’s got the time,” Merlin argued, “And she’ll want to do something nice for you. She’ll have to organise lots of things when she’s your – I mean, in the future. I know she’s a bit lost without Morgana to take care of.”

He knew he was winning Arthur over. He gave a non-committal grunt and shuffled in his chair.

“She did say she wanted to keep herself busy,” he said, considering Merlin’s proposal, “But she can’t do it alone. You can’t give her too much responsibility, too many expectations. I for one know how taxing they can be. She’s never done anything like this before.”

“I’ll help her,” Merlin said readily, “And so will the other servants, if you instruct them to.”

Arthur stroked his chin in thought.

“I can even get some of the knights to help,” Merlin added.

“They’re knights, Merlin. Defenders of the peace. You can’t ask them to make holly wreaths and ribbon garlands.”

_But it’s so much fun._

“Well, I can ask them to put some up.”

Arthur gave him a stern look.

“That’s women’s work.”

“Hey!  _I_  like doing it!”

“Exactly.”

Merlin was about to make an annoyed comeback to this when Arthur came to a decision.

“Alright. If Gwen will agree to do it, then by all means, go ahead. Who knows, it might be quite fun.”

Merlin grinned triumphantly. A Yuletide feast was just what they needed. Gwen would have a job to work on, Arthur could have some time off for a change, the knights would have a break from their duties, and everyone in Camelot could finally just have a laugh and let their hair down (which would be especially good for Gaius, given his current furious state.) Lancelot and Gwaine would see Camelot at its merriest – though how long the latter would stay conscious for with all that alcohol flowing around was left to be seen. It was going to be a Yuletide to remember.


	3. The YFDC

“A feast?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to organise an entire Yuletide feast?”

Gwen’s eyes were wide with disbelief. Merlin had been too busy with his duties to go find her straightaway, but he bumped into her as he was on his way to the knights’ training ground. Arthur was spending the morning there, and Merlin had already dressed him in his armour. He’d nipped back to the prince’s room to pick up some weapons that needed polishing, so he could clean them until Arthur needed him. When he saw Gwen drawing water from the well, he took a quick diversion on his journey to tell her of his plan.

“You said you needed something to do,” Merlin reminded the reluctant girl.

“Yes, something small. Like knitting Gaius a pair of socks, making a few cakes – not preparing a feast! Besides, I thought you had enough spare time. You were down the tavern last night.”

“How do you know that?”

“Elyan told me. He tells me everything.”

Merlin tried his secret weapon for persuading Gwen into something: Arthur.

“Don’t you think it’d be good for Arthur? He’s overworked, he needs to relax. And I’ll do the decorations. I’ll get a team of us to work on it.”

Gwen sighed, relenting.

“I’ll do it,” she said, putting her hands on her hips, “But Merlin, you’re going to help me, or I’ll take that neckerchief and strangle you with it.”

Merlin smiled and hugged her.

“Thankyou, Gwen. I won’t let you down.”

“Hmm.”

Gwen set her lips in a straight line, like Merlin’s mother had used to when she was about to tell him off.

“I guess I should start making arrangements, then,” she said, before going on her way.

 

* * *

 

Merlin walked to the training ground with a spring in his step. Arthur was there when he arrived, busy with the newest recruits. Elyan, Lancelot, Percival and Gwaine stood on the field, weapons drawn, striking dummy targets. The comical little wooden men were hacked about by the soldiers with as much ferocity as if they were real enemies. Merlin sat on a bench opposite and set to work with the dirty weapons, absently watching the knights. Arthur walked to each one, watching their skills and giving them advice. Elyan was a good round fighter, confident in his abilities. Lancelot was refined in his accuracy, but with a hard edge learnt from his time spent fighting for a wager. Percival was strong, relying on brute force and big, heavy blows. And Gwaine was, well, Gwaine. He was unconventional, a rough fighter, untrained, ungraceful.

Merlin keenly watched his concentration, his complete focus on the target. And his hair. It whipped about wildly as Gwaine threw himself into the combat. Merlin loved how he still looked rugged and raw in his knight’s armour, bearing the crest of Camelot. _Whoa, steady on, Merlin._ The memories of last night flooded back to him. Relations of _that_ kind between men were not spoken about. It went against Uther’s command, but Merlin knew that in reality it seldom came to a matter of law, and even then little was done about it. In his time at Camelot, only one case of that nature had cropped up, and it had been dismissed almost instantly. Gaius had told him that it was the way in Uther’s kingdom; so long as discretion was kept to a maximum, it caused few problems. So then maybe it wouldn’t be so hard if he and Gwaine… Uther always had other things to deal with. _Like magic._ Merlin sighed as he watched Gwaine, idly cleaning Arthur’s sword.

“Er, Merlin?”

Merlin nearly dropped the sword in surprise, which would have been painful, seeing as he was sitting with his legs apart. It was only then that he realised what he’d been doing. Polishing a sword in a suggestive position, looking intently at Gwaine. It must have looked like he was… doing something else. Merlin steadied himself before he fell off the bench and impaled himself on the sword. Not a good way to go. He looked up to see who had disturbed him.

“Oh. Sir Leon.”

The knight nodded in greeting, a little embarrassed.

“Good morning. I hope you are having a, er, pleasing day.”

“Very pleasing, thankyou,” Merlin blurted, before realising how that sounded.

 _What_ will _sensible Sir Leon think?_

“I didn’t know you were here,” Merlin confessed.

“Oh. I was watching El– the new knights. I wanted to see how their training’s getting on.”

Merlin struggled to find something to say as he looked up at the knight. Then he blinked and looked at him some more.

“What happened to your hair?”

Leon’s long locks were gone, replaced with shorn hair that lay close to his head. It actually suited him. He’d looked a bit middle-aged when it was longer.

“Someone threw a bowl of – well, I don’t know what – out of their window yesterday, and it hit me on the head.”

Oh dear.

“It must have been some sort of glue,” Leon went on, annoyed, “Because whatever I tried, it wouldn’t come out of my hair. I wore a hat all of yesterday. Last night I had to cut it all off.”

Merlin tried to look as innocent as possible as he listened to the story. Gaius’ porridge certainly had its applications. He was glad he hadn’t eaten any.

“When I found out who attacked me,” said the knight menacingly, “I will make him pay.”

Merlin’s face was crossed with fear and guilt but Leon seemed not to notice.

“Assaulting a knight,” Merlin said, “I don’t believe it. Some people have no respect.”

“Hey! Merlin!”

It was Gwaine, bounding over the field towards him. Arthur had called an end to the day’s training and the knights were now sheathing their weapons and wandering off the training ground, to their next duty. Arthur was still talking to Elyan, giving him some advice, so Merlin didn’t have to go to him. The wooden dummies stood battered on the field. Merlin noticed that Sir Percival’s was now missing an arm. _Crikey._ Gwaine clapped Merlin on the shoulder when he reached him.

“I saw you watching me from the sidelines here,” he said, bending down to speak to Merlin in a low tone, “I hope I made an impression.”

Merlin felt his stomach knot as Gwaine spoke, and a thought suddenly came to him. Had Gwaine been showing off to impress him? And – oh, no – had he seen what Merlin had been doing with Arthur’s sword?

Gwaine stood up to talk to Leon, flicking his hair as he did so. Hang on, he couldn’t know that Merlin really liked that. Could he?

“Sir Leon,” Gwaine greeted him, smiling.

“Sir Gwaine.”

Gwaine frowned as he looked at the knight.

“What happened to your hair? Did you actually take my advice?”

“Well –”

“Ah, Leon!” Gwaine breezed, “I know I might have passed comment, but you know I was only joking, right? And if I mentioned it after that I was probably drunk. Still, I quite like your hair like this, don’t you, Merlin?”

Merlin nodded in agreement.

“I guess you’ll have me cut mine too now, eh?” Gwaine asked Leon.

“No!” Merlin cried, a little too enthusiastically.

The others turned to him, their expressions quizzical. Merlin bit his lip. Now he was going to have to come up for a reason to explain his passion for this issue.

“Er…” he began, looking down and picking at the hem of his sleeve, “I just think it looks fine as it is, is all.”

Gwaine looked quietly satisfied. _Quick, find something to say._

“Oh,” Merlin said, thrilled that he had a topic of conversation, “You know what you were saying the other night about Yuletide?”

“Not really,” Gwaine admitted.

“You were pretty fixed in your views then,” Leon said pointedly.

“We didn’t think there was even going to be a Yuletide this year,” Merlin reminded them, “Not after everything that’s happened. But I thought it’d be a real shame not to celebrate. So, I’ve spoken to Arthur about it, and he’s agreed to host a feast.”

Gwaine rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“Ale and dancing,” he said gleefully, “I can’t wait.”

“Well,” Merlin said hesitantly, “There is one condition. Gwen’s organising the feast, and I promised her I’d sort out the decorations. But I can’t do all that on my own. So I was thinking… You and some of the other knights… You could help me with it?”

“Certainly,” said an eager Sir Leon.

Gwaine looked somewhat disappointed.

“Merlin, we’re knights,” he said pleadingly, “We’re meant to be defending Camelot, not making silly little paper chains. It’s women’s work.”

“ _I_ like doing it!” Leon protested.

“Exactly.”

Merlin tugged at Gwaine’s sleeve.

“Gwaine, please,” he said beseechingly, “I want this Yuletide to be wonderful for everyone in Camelot. The people, Arthur… you. Won’t you help a friend?”

Gwaine heaved a heavy sigh.

“Alright. But I’m only doing this because it’s you who’s asking me.”

“Thankyou.”

Leon was brimming with ideas.

“There’s so much to do,” he said eagerly, “Wreaths, garlands, streamers, bouquets… I have so many ideas.”

“Then, Sir Leon,” Merlin said, his catching enthusiasm mixed with his guilt about Leon’s shaven hair, “I appoint you as chief decorator.”

The knight was like a busy mother managing a household, breathlessly planning and fussing.

“I’ll get as many of the knights as I can to help. I’ve saved most of their lives at some point, so I’ll tell them I’ll take this as repayment. Wow, maybe this really is a great idea!”

Elyan joined them then.

“What’s a good idea?”

“Come on,” Leon said eagerly, taking him by the arm, “I’ll tell you all about it.”

Leon trundled off, impatient to make further plans, Elyan in tow.

Gwaine watched him go.

“He really is a mother hen.”

“I think it’s sweet.”

Gwaine smiled, then noticed the purple bruise on Merlin’s head.

“Hey, how’d you do that to yourself?”

Merlin wanted to tell him a better story than the truth, but he couldn’t think of one fast enough and he’d always been a rubbish liar anyway.

“I, er, fell over a chair.”

“You idiot.”

“I didn’t see it!”

“Yeah, it just ran straight at you.”

Merlin pouted and Gwaine stopped his teasing.

“Aww, I’m sorry Merlin. Want me to kiss it better?”

_Yes. Hey, what? What are you thinking, Merlin?_

“No, I’m fine,” he said, trying to keep his voice even.

“Too late,” said Gwaine, quickly putting a hand round the back of Merlin’s head and kissing him on the forehead.

Merlin felt his cheeks burn.

“Gwaine!” he hissed, “Don’t! People will get the wrong idea.”

“Mmm. Like you and that sword?”

 _Oh Lord, you saw that._ Merlin felt his heart sink to his knees in sheer mortification. Gwaine raised his eyebrows, looking at him expectantly.

“Er… I… that wasn’t… uh…”

“That’s alright,” Gwaine said, leaning closer to the manservant, “It was kind of hot.”

Merlin’s expression was that of utter disbelief. He couldn’t believe this was even happening. Gwaine was talking dirty with him. Again. It was the second time in the space of a day. Admittedly he was very drunk the first time, but now he was stone cold sober and still that way inclined.

“I think I felt a little jealous,” Gwaine said into Merlin’s ear.

 _What? Oh. Oh._ Merlin hadn’t known what to do should anything… occur, but now he was starting to learn a few things. Why did he have to have such a vivid imagination, dammit? Gwaine wasn’t moving away from his position behind him. _What the Hell am I going to do?_

“Merlin! Stop slacking off!” Arthur yelled.

Merlin had never been more glad to be shouted at. He hastily grabbed Arthur’s now partially clean armour and ran towards him, mumbling a vague farewell to Gwaine.

“What took you so long?” Arthur moaned as Merlin stumbled over.

“I was… picking up… I…” Merlin panted, unable to articulate.

“You were with Gwaine.”

“Uh… yeah.”

Arthur seemed to be trying to determine whether Merlin’s flustered expression was down to his (pathetic) running over to him, or something Gwaine had said.

“What were you two talking about?”

“Er… Yuletide. Yes, that’s it. Gwen agreed to do it.”

 _Good save._ As Gwaine sloped off, Merlin helped Arthur off with his armour. He chattered on about his Yuletide plans so much that he almost forgot Gwaine’s knowing smile.

 

* * *

 

“Merlin, what did I specifically tell you not to do?”

“Er… I think you said something about me not letting foolish young men roam around your workshop?”

“Yes. So why are there about thirty of them here?”

Merlin looked at the sea of men around him, flooding Gaius’ small workshop. Maybe he should have asked for his permission before letting them all in. Then again, maybe not – the old man would have refused.

“We’re the YFDC.” someone piped up.

It was Sir Leon, his arms full of bright red ribbons. Elyan sat next to him, similarly laden with the bright strips of fabric.

“The what?” Gaius asked, his face stern.

One of his eyebrows shot up so high on his face that it seemed to have a mind of its own.

“The Yuletide Feast Decoration Committee. We’re making the decorations for the Yuletide feast,” Leon said eagerly.

“The what?”

“The Yuletide Feast. You know, the one Merlin’s put us all up to.”

“He what?”

Sir Leon frowned.

“You did tell Gaius about this, didn’t you, Merlin?”

The whole room turned to look at the manservant.

“It might have… slipped my mind,” he said, wincing.

It was bad enough to have everyone stare at him, but it was made worse by the fact that Gwaine had retaliated for Merlin dragging him into decoration-making by replacing his neckerchief with one of the festive ribbons. It had been funny at the time, but now Merlin felt like an idiot, as well as looking like one. And he didn’t know if Gwaine was going to give that neckerchief back. He was wearing it now, and seemed to be getting quite attached to it. _Stop thinking about Gwaine._

“Merlin,” Gaius frowned severely, “Am I ever to have the use of my own home?”

“It’s just until Yuletide. It’s only a fortnight away.”

“A fortnight?” Gaius repeated.

“That’s two weeks,” Leon said helpfully.

“Yes, I know what a fortnight is!” Gaius snapped, glaring at his pupil.

Merlin wouldn’t have been surprised if his mentor had used his magic to strike him down. He was afraid of being turned into an ugly toad, trapped until someone kissed him. They’d probably be disappointed once they did – who’d choose a servant over a handsome prince? _Don’t even think it, Merlin._

“We just want a nice Yuletide for everyone in Camelot,” Gwaine said reasonably.

The white-haired man shot him a sharp glare.

“Don’t you speak to me. I’ve already had enough of you today. And you look ridiculous.”

Merlin had retaliated for Gwaine’s retaliation by tying several of the ribbons into his hair. He’d rather enjoyed running his fingers through his long mane. _You’re thinking about Gwaine again._

“We only wanted to help Arthur out,” Merlin said, rather pathetically.

“You seem very eager to give away things that are not yours to give,” Gaius huffed.

“Please, Gaius?”

The physician’s eyes pierced Merlin like arrows.

“Just until the Yuletide feast. After that, I want them all gone.”

Gaius fixed his eyes onto Lancelot and Gwaine.

“Including you,” he added, before sweeping out of the room.

Leon gave Merlin a look.

“You didn’t tell him? That is very irresponsible, Merlin.”

“Aah, lay off him,” said Gwaine, “Go make some more garlands or something.”

Leon looked annoyed, but Elyan laid a calming hand on his shoulder and he went back to fussily organising. The YFDC resumed making decorations, filling the room with an indistinct murmur.

Lancelot leaned over from his seat behind Merlin and Gwaine.

“Gaius isn’t having the best day,” he said, grimacing.

“I’m sorry,” said Merlin, “Don’t feel like you have to leave because of him.”

Merlin knew that was exactly how the knights must feel, and he didn’t blame them. The court physician was a force to be reckoned with.

“I found somewhere,” said Lancelot, “I made enquiries today, like I said I would. There’s a flat in the Middle Town. It’s perfect. Good size, on a quiet street, near to the training grounds. But I can’t afford it on my own, so…”

 _Not Gwaine._ Despite what Gaius said, Merlin didn’t want his friends to go. Yes, the old man was at his wit’s end, and yes, the Middle Town wasn’t far away, but still…

“What, we get it together?” Gwaine asked.

Lancelot pulled a face.

“Us? Share a flat? Living here with you is bad enough as it is. I couldn’t cope with it all the time!”

“I’m not so bad!” Gwaine protested.

Lancelot gave him a look.

“No. You are not bad to live with at all,” he said, his voice stilted and dripping with sarcasm.

“What do you suggest instead, then?” Merlin asked, before the two initiated a fight.

He knew they only fought in play, and it was quite funny to watch, but last time Gwaine had fallen into one of Gaius’ cabinets and smashed another vial of foot balm. It seemed the people of Camelot were never to have their verrucas healed.

“I’ll get the flat with Percival,” said Lancelot.

It made sense; Percival had come to Camelot with Lancelot, and knew him better than the other knights. Percival did get on well with Elyan though – that was why he was staying at his forge. His brute strength seemed to come in handy there. Merlin looked across the room at the knight. The intricacy of tying ribbons together was completely lost on him, and had resulted in his creating a mangled heap of fabric. Seeing the textile tragedy, Sir Leon had quickly removed him from that task and instructed him instead to cut up the few tangled boughs of holly he’d gathered from the forest earlier into smaller parts that could be put in displays around the castle. It seemed Percival was better at hacking things to pieces than making something pretty.

“I haven’t sorted it all out yet,” said Lancelot, “But we should be able to move in by the end of the week.”

“Thankyou,” said Merlin gratefully.

“You’d better get your act together,” Lancelot said to Gwaine.

“Yeah. Merlin’s getting bored of me already.”

“I’m not!” Merlin protested, “You know I never could.”

Gwaine smiled.

“I know.”

He tugged at the ribbon around Merlin’s neck, untying it neatly.

“I’ll be needing that,” he said, threading it into his almost-finished garland as a final touch.

The colourful decoration was a messy explosion of ribbon, but it would look very festive when it was hung up.

“There you go,” said Gwaine, holding it up.

Merlin tilted his head to one side.

“It’s a bit… disordered.”

Gwaine punched him on the shoulder, leading Merlin to wonder why physical pain seemed to be the only way that males could express their affection for one another. Sometimes he just wanted a hug.


	4. Unpicked Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you goes to [waltzing_mice](https://waltzing-mice.livejournal.com/), a truly talented artist, for illustrating this chapter!

The Yuletide Feast Decoration Committee was a great success. They had already made fifty ribbon garlands (of wildly varying quality) by their first sitting, and met in Gaius’ workshop every evening after that to make more decorations. Leon was organised, and before long his team of knights had made huge quantities of holly wreaths, arrangements of foliage, and green-and-red bunting. After hearing that Lancelot would soon be out of his house, Gaius’ mood had dramatically improved, and he joined the team to help. He had a physician’s eye for detail, and more often than not he was correcting the errors of the knight’s clumsy hands.

Merlin had checked in on Gwen, and found her much happier than she had been for a long time. She had a lot on her hands; servants to manage, vast amounts of food to prepare and entertainments to arrange, but the serving-girl was at her best when she had plenty to do. There wasn’t much time left, but Gwen was running on schedule, and Yuletide seemed to be coming together. They’d spread the news around Camelot, which had evoked great excitement and speculation. Merlin heard some wild rumours (a man down the tavern swore Uther had invited no less than seven Kings from neighboring kingdoms, who would each be arriving with a magnificent entourage), and he hoped that the more humble reality would not be a disappointment. All of Camelot would be attending the festivities, and Merlin wanted the people to be impressed with what Gwen, the simple serving-girl who had won the prince’s heart, had accomplished.

Lancelot moved out before the week was up. Merlin and Gwaine helped him and Percival settle into the new flat. Elyan was going to help, but he told them Leon had roped him into more decoration-making, so he couldn’t come. Lancelot and Percival didn’t mind – they had very few possessions to take with them. The new flat was perfect. It was clean and tidy (though Merlin doubted it would stay that way), and more than large enough for both knights. Lancelot had arranged to keep the furniture that was already there, so the knights busied themselves with that, checking that every item they had been promised was present and correct. Whilst they did the manly checklist thing, Merlin made everyone lunch. Gwaine laughed at his womanliness, but he didn’t mind it. He’d rather be compared to something caring and kind than something strong and warlike.

“You’d be a good housewife, Merlin,” said Gwaine, ruffling his hair.

Merlin punched him in the shoulder. _That’s for not hugging me, you drunken oaf._ The drunken oaf didn’t seem to feel his attempt at a punch, and merely laughed. When Merlin finished making lunch, the four of them ate the bacon and fried bread round a long table, and Merlin felt quite content now that Lancelot and Percival were settled. _Two down, one to go. And I mean really go._ Over the meal there was enough nudging to push Gwaine in the right direction, but he remained fairly vague about leaving Gaius’.

Merlin even considered moving in somewhere with him – but only for a second. Like the mad second when Gwaine had been banished, and he’d thought about leaving Camelot to travel with him. Merlin was held back by his duty. He couldn’t leave Gaius on his own; he’d worry far too much about the old man. Besides, Arthur needed him as well; if not just as a servant, then also a protector. Merlin had a destiny, and that destiny was to serve Arthur. He couldn’t have left, even if he was Gwaine’s only friend in the world. He would do a lot of things for him, but not that. _Stop thinking about the things you_ would _do in such explicit detail, Merlin._

With only a week to go until Yuletide, the whole of Camelot was busy making preparations. Merlin was making some of his own, which were far more secret. As a child, one of the things he had liked best about Yuletide was the presents. It was the only time he received any, aside from his birthday. It was true that presents were normally just given to children, but Merlin was the architect of the perfect Yuletide for the people he cared about, and he was going to spread the spirit of the season.

He compiled a mental list of who he was going to get presents for. Bearing in mind that he only had a servant’s wages, and a rapidly decreasing amount of spare time, it came down to four people: Gaius, Gwen, Lancelot and Gwaine. Yes, he did care about Arthur too, but

a) he was a prat

b) he was a prince and therefore rolling in it anyway

c) he really was a prat

Merlin knew that his other friends probably wouldn’t receive presents from anyone apart from him, so he got his thinking neckerchief on, and sat in his room one evening, considering what to get them. He sat in silence on his bed with Gwaine, lazily sewing fabric hearts to hang around the city on behalf of the YFDC.

First of all was Gaius. Initially Merlin thought of a new pair of gloves, as the old man’s hands got cold in the winter, or a fancy quill, like the ones he’d seen nobles buy at the market. His thoughts had been rudely interrupted by the said old man loudly complaining to himself about Gwaine’s conspicuous presence in his chambers (made evident by the trail of destruction he left in his wake, thankfully not including a vial of foot balm this time.) _How much can Gaius really want some ‘peace and quiet’?_ Before Merlin came to Camelot, he’d had that by the bucketload. _But it must have been lonely._ Merlin looked at the heart in his hands. He remembered his own, somewhat cynical, thoughts on love. His ideas were starting to change. Sitting there, in the dim candlelight with his friend, he felt like anything was possible. And that was when he came upon a plan to give Gaius the best present he’d ever received.

“Ah, stupid thing!” Gwaine cried.

He’d managed to stab his own hand with the needle. It wasn’t surprising, considering he’d never done it before. That much was apparent, looking at the haphazard stitches the knight had mutilated the fabric heart with, compared to Merlin’s neat row of stitches. (According to Gwaine, sewing too was ‘women’s work’. Merlin felt sorry for all the women Gwaine knew. Any initial attraction to him would soon be obliterated when he told them it was nice meeting them, but shouldn’t they get back in the kitchen.) Merlin laughed.

“It’s not funny!” Gwaine protested, “It hurts.”

“Oh, Sir Gwaine, gravely wounded by a piercingly sharp needle. What can I do to ease the poor man’s suffering?”

Gwaine gave him a look. Merlin knew what it meant. _Kiss it better._ In the past he would have refused, made a joke and gone to find a bandage in Gaius’ workshop. Not now. Something had changed. Merlin tentatively reached for Gwaine’s hand, holding it in his hands. His fingers felt awkward, as if they did not know how to put themselves around another’s hand. Merlin saw the red stain of blood on Gwaine’s palm, and lifted his hand to his mouth. Merlin pressed a kiss to his skin, his lips gentle and lingering. He resisted the temptation to kiss him again, and pushed Gwaine’s hand back towards him. Their fingers untangled themselves from one another.

Merlin couldn’t bring himself to look at Gwaine’s eyes. He was too afraid, though he didn’t know what of. Instead he looked at his mangled fabric heart.

“I’ll have to redo that.”

“It’s not that bad!”

“I think it is.”

“You can’t just unpick my heart.”

Merlin picked up the messy folds of red cloth.

“I can.”

Gwaine’s voice was serious.

“I think you already have.”

Merlin wanted to scream and run away and cry and kiss him all at once. Doubt filled his mind. Was love really possible? What even was it? What if it didn’t work out? How did you know it was love? But he had to stick to his plan. He had to give this present to Gaius. If he didn’t, he didn’t know that he could believe love existed.

 

* * *

 

“Going somewhere?”

Merlin jumped. He’d thought he was alone. He had come to the stables at his first opportunity, on the pretence of mucking out the horses. What he was really going to do was ride out of Camelot, get what he was looking for, and return as quickly as he could. It was midday now. If he was quick, he could return before sundown. He’d just grabbed a bridle, ready to saddle Gregory, one of Arthur’s horses. (He never seemed to notice when they were missing). It was foolproof, so long as he didn’t get caught. And now the inevitable had happened. He’d been caught. Just his luck that the knights’ horseback training had just ended.

“I… er… well…” Merlin mumbled.

“It’s alright. It’s only me.”

 _Only you? It never is_ only _you, Gwaine._ The knight leant over the stable door and shot Merlin an inquisitive look, asking for an explanation.Merlin decided to tell him.

“I’m running an errand for Gaius.”

It wasn’t a lie, not really. It _was_ an errand, and it _was_ for Gaius. Just not quite the way he’d implied it.

“Are you now? Funny he didn’t mention it this morning.”

“He did. Only later. When you were out.”

Gwaine played along with it, though Merlin knew he didn’t believe him.

“So, what is this errand?”

_Avoid the question._

“I’ll just be out of the city for a few hours.”

“Alone? Could be dangerous.”

Merlin shrugged.

“I’ll be back before long.”

“Fair enough. Why are you going again?”

“Gaius sent me.”

Gwaine smiled.

“Come on, Merlin. What’s this all about?”

Merlin looked up.

“Love.”

“You’re speaking in riddles.”

Merlin threw the saddle onto Gregory, his back to Gwaine.

“What is life but a riddle?” he asked cryptically.

Gwaine lost patience then. He vaulted the stable door and caught Merlin from behind, wrapping his arms round his waist.

“Oi! Gwaine! I have to go – I…”

The servant wriggled in his hold, but he could not break free. To be honest, he wasn’t really trying too hard. He sort of like being close to Gwaine. He certainly felt safer when he was around (if he was sober, that was). And this was like a hug. Not quite a proper one, but still, a hug.

“Oh no,” said Gwaine teasingly, “You’re not going anywhere. Not until you give me a straight answer.”

Merlin gave up his pretence of struggling, and instead put his arms around himself, holding Gwaine’s in place. _Let’s stay like this for a bit._ Gwaine didn’t object. He rested his head on Merlin’s shoulder, getting comfortable. His long hair fell lightly against the side of Merlin’s face. _Wow, it really_ is _that soft._

 

  
_[The Barn](http://waltzing-mice.livejournal.com/35914.html#cutid1)_ by [waltzing_mice](http://waltzing-mice.livejournal.com/).

 

“Alright,” said Merlin contentedly, nestling a little closer, “I’m going to the village of Fangtt.”

“Can’t say I know it.”

“It has a tavern.”

“Ah. That’s probably why I don’t remember it.”

They shared a quiet smile.

“So, what are you going there for?” asked Gwaine.

“Someone I know is living there. I want to find her.”

Merlin felt the other man tense a little.

“Her?”

 _That was loaded. Jealous?_ Merlin wanted to play that game now, just to see where it went.

“She’s a healer,” he said, “A very talented one.”

“What’s her name?” Gwaine asked, his tone was almost accusatory.

“Alice.”

“And how does she fit into your errand of love?”

Merlin decided he liked this game. But he wasn’t going to be cruel – he’d end it soon enough. After a bit more fun.

“She’s a friend of Gaius’.”

“How old is she?”

 _So this is Gwaine trying to be subtle._ He couldn’t really do it. Gwaine was better suited to saying what he really felt – which was almost always what he did, perhaps aided by the addition of alcohol. Merlin couldn’t resist a smirk before he gave his answer.

“She’s hard to age – I’m not sure… About sixty?”

“Sixty?!”

Gwaine seemed more confused than ever. It was nice to be the one in charge for a change. It was less nice to have Gwaine jump away from him in his surprise, however. Merlin started enjoying the game less.

“I didn’t think older women were really your type, but whatever floats your boat,” Gwaine said, disturbed.

Merlin turned to face him. He widened his eyes in mock innocence.

“Gwaine! What are you suggesting? As if I could be interested in women – I mean, older women.”

He could just feel Gwaine noticing his slip-up. _Not so in control now, are we?_ Merlin remembered sharply that pride came before a fall.

“Alice is an old flame of Gaius’,” he said, hastily speaking before Gwaine could make comment.

Gwaine raised an eyebrow.

“Gaius had a girl? What is the world coming to?”

“I know. I was surprised too,” said Merlin, “It turns out they got engaged about twenty years ago, but the King suspected her of using magic, and she had to flee to escape him. She returned to Camelot not long ago, so she could see Gaius again. It was lovely to see him so happy.”

“But it didn’t work out?” asked Gwaine knowingly, “What, did they argue?”

“No, no, they still love each other. She just had to leave.”

“How come?”

“She tried to kill the King. But Gaius broke her out of prison before he could execute her.”

Gwaine seemed impressed.

“Old dog’s got some skills, I’ll admit,” he said, “So that’s why you’re going to Fangtt. To find his lost love. How do you know she’s there?”

Merlin had used a searching spell to find Alice. He’d seen it a while ago in one of Gaius’ old books, and had dug it out again to put it to work. It had been easy to find her then. With its help, he had a vision of the village of Fangtt. Well, it hadn’t been that easy. Searching spells were notoriously difficult, and could easily be blocked if they were sensed by the warlock they were being cast on. It was only because Alice was so close that Merlin had been able to find her. Though he couldn’t exactly tell Gwaine that. He thought on his feet.

“She told me she’s go there. In case Gaius was ill, she wanted to be nearby.”

“Wouldn’t it be dangerous for her to return to Camelot?” asked Gwaine, “She is an escaped criminal, after all.”

“People are coming from all over for Yuletide. So many people will be out on the streets that no-one will know. I want to do this for Gaius. For Yuletide.”

Gwaine shrugged, considering.

“So… can I go now?” asked Merlin.

“Of course.”

Gwaine didn’t move.

“Haven’t you got some knightly things to be doing?” Merlin prompted him.

“I’ve got the afternoon off. So, I reckon I’ll come with you.”

“You wouldn’t rather be at the tavern?”

“No! I’d much rather be with you.”

_Now there’s an honour._

“Although,” Gwaine said, thinking, “If I could combine the two, I would prefer that.”

“I wouldn’t. Not after what happened last time.”

That had certainly had an effect on Merlin.

“What did happen last time?”

Merlin blushed.

“Oh nothing, just Gaius got angry, shall we go now?”


	5. Small Mercy

The ride out of Camelot was a pleasant one. Frost clung to the trees, shimmering in the clear winter light. Gwaine had taken Storm, a pretty young mare, and it was clear that Gregory had a thing for her. He kept leaning closer to her to nuzzle her neck, bumping Merlin’s leg against Gwaine’s. The horses’ breath was visible in the air, like wisps of smoke. Merlin and Gwaine talked about everything and nothing. Their past adventures (all of Gwaine’s involving alcohol, and all of Merlin’s involving saving Arthur’s skin), the current state of the city, what the future held.

“You certainly do a lot for your friends, Merlin,” said Gwaine as they rode down the winding lane into Fangtt, “Finding Gaius’ old flame for Yuletide. Just never go after any of mine. They’d kill me. Seriously.”

Merlin laughed. _Why am I not surprised?_

“Don’t go making any enemies in Camelot, then,” he said, “You’re here to stay now.”

“Oh no. I’m settling down. Being responsible.”

Merlin gave him a look.

“Mmm, somehow I’m not convinced.”

“I’m a knight now. Gotta set a good example, all that stuff Leon says. You told me I couldn’t live the way I was living forever. You were right. And I don’t want to live like that. I’d rather stay in Camelot with you.”

He looked at Merlin, and it was the same gentle, earnest look he’d given him when he confessed Merlin was his only friend in the world. That look did something to Merlin’s insides, but he hid it.

“A reformed Gwaine?” he said incredulously, “Really, I’d never have you change.”

“Oh good, I won’t bother then.”

Merlin grinned.

“I could never see you settling down,” he said, “Working hard as a knight, marrying some virtuous noblewoman, raising children.”

Gwaine pulled a face.

“Ugh. What a hideous fate. You won’t do that, will you, Merlin?”

“No. I’m not a knight, and I couldn’t marry a noblewoman even if I wanted to.”

Gwaine rolled his eyes, knowing that Merlin was teasing him.

“You know what I meant.”

“I do. And no, I’m not going to marry and have kids. I don’t think I’m even going to fall in love. My destiny is to serve Arthur when he is king, and that’s all,” Merlin said sadly.

There was a brief silence.

“Well,” said Gwaine, “That’s depressing.”

“Shut up, you.”

“You shut up.”

Then they both shut up. Fangtt had come into sight through the trees, and they were not prepared for what they could see. The village must have been among the places to be hit by Cenred’s immortal army, because it lay in ruins. Houses were blackened and burnt, thatched roofs destroyed. For many, only the timbers were still standing, like hollow skeletons. The blackened wood stood out in the white frost. Only a few cottages had escaped destruction. At the far side of the village, a cluster of houses huddled, charred but not completely ruined. The villagers must have only been able to save those. A stream trickled along that side of the village, explaining why.

Gwaine shot Merlin a worried look. A few people milled about, but it seemed most had left. Recently, a lot of people, like Mary the barwoman, had been displaced after the destruction of their homes. The people of Fangtt must have been among those refugees who came to Camelot – but Alice wasn’t one of them. They’d know if she was in the city. Merlin saw Gwaine’s furtive glance to the row of fresh graves that lay not far away. He swallowed. The searching spell wouldn’t have worked if Alice were dead – would it? Or maybe it had guided him here – to the site of her dead body? The thought was sickening, not least because it was partly Merlin’s fault that the Cup of Life had fallen into Morgause’s hands and started this whole sorry affair.

“Merlin,” said Gwaine gently, “We don’t have to go on. We can turn back.”

Merlin shook his head.

“How could I face Gaius? No. I have to see.”

Gwaine nodded, and they kicked Gregory and Storm on, into the dusty village. A few people stared as they passed, their faces streaked with ash. A group of men sat in the remains of a burnt-out house around a small fire, passing a bottle between themselves. Children ran from house to house, laughing as though it were all a game.

Merlin and Gwaine halted by the graveyard and dismounted. The graves were marked by simple stones, with rough names scratched into them. Silently, they stepped among the graves, reading the names. Molly Hunt, Frank Down, George Well… but no Alice.

“She’s not here,” said Merlin.

“That’s a small mercy,” said Gwaine, skimming over the graves once more.

“Mercies are hard to find nowadays.”

The voice had come from behind them. Merlin and Gwaine turned round at once to see who it was. It was an old woman, bent over, a basket of herbs over one arm. She was wrapped up in threadbare clothes, an old scarf tied over her head, obscuring her face. She shuffled nearer, her head hung low, looking down at the ground.

“Cenred’s army showed us no mercy. The winter shows us no mercy. Death has shown us the only mercy, to those lucky few before you.”

She drew closer and stopped to look at them. She drew a deep breath.

“It isn’t – it can’t be – Merlin?”

She dropped her basket and hobbled towards him, untying the scarf from round her head. It fell limply around her shoulders, uncovering her face.

“Alice!”

Merlin could not suppress his sudden joy, and enfolded her in a bear hug she clearly wasn’t expecting. Although they hadn’t got on so well back in Camelot (due to her being controlled by a malevolent monster intent on murdering Uther), Merlin knew that she was really a good person, and she meant a lot to his mentor.

“Oh, Merlin,” said Alice, disentangling herself from the boy’s lanky arms, “You are well? And Gaius? Is everything alright? He’s not ill, is he? Or dead? I heard many were executed in Camelot. Gaius wasn’t one of them, was he?”

“No, no, Gaius is fine,” said Merlin, before she could ask him another question, “Don’t worry. What about you?”

“There’s too much to say now,” said the old woman, “You should come inside and have some tea, and then we can talk. And your friend?”

She looked over at Gwaine curiously.

“Oh,” said Merlin, “This is Gwaine.”

“ _Sir_ Gwaine,” the knight corrected him.

“He is a knight of Camelot,” Merlin explained to Alice, “In spite of appearances.”

“Oi!”

“And manners.”

Gwaine strode over to Alice, took her hand and bowed.

“Enchanted to meet you, madam.”

“He’s just putting that on,” said Merlin in a stage whisper.

Gwaine elbowed him in the stomach. _So it’s one act of violence for every display of affection, is it? I thought we were making progress on the hugging front._

Alice’s home was a tiny hut on the outskirts of the village, on the other side of the river. As a healer, she was on the edge of things – people relied on her skill in times of need, and for that, they thanked her – but they also knew that Uther had banned magic, and for that, they suspected her, and feared for their own sakes what penalty harbouring a witch carried. Gwaine and Merlin tethered the horses outside, which Gregory was evidently thrilled about. He set about grooming Storm, ready to win her affections. Alice led Merlin and Gwaine inside, the latter taking care not to knock anything over in the miniscule room crammed with shelves of bottles.

“Oh,” said Alice, “I think I left my basket at the graveyard.”

“I’ll get it,” Merlin offered.

Gwaine didn’t look too thrilled about this (perhaps witchy old women scared him), so Merlin was quick to retrieve Alice’s basket. When he returned to her hut, he heard hushed voices from inside. Wondering what Gwaine and Alice were talking about, he stood quietly outside to hear them. Their voices were muffled.

“How did you know?” Gwaine was asking.

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Alice.

“I don’t think so. _He_ doesn’t know. No-one does. Apart from you.”

Merlin’s curiosity was piqued. Was Gwaine talking about him? What didn’t he know? Was there something Gwaine wasn’t telling him?

“He has the same secret, you know.”

What secret? What secret did he and Gwaine both have? Magic? But Gwaine didn’t have any – Merlin could sense when a person was magical, and Gwaine definitely wasn’t.

“You mean he lo–”

Then Storm chewed Merlin’s arm, and he yelled in surprise, and Gwaine stopped talking at once. Merlin sighed and entered the house.

“I got your basket.”

Alice took her basket of herbs and made steaming cups of suspiciously green tea. She had only one chair, which Merlin and Gwaine insisted she use, so they sat on the floor, like children listening to their grandmother’s stories. They exchanged tales. Alice explained how she came to live in Fangtt to be near Camelot in case Gaius needed her, but when the village was attacked by Cenred’s army, most of its inhabitants had left. Merlin told her, in brief, what had happened to them in Camelot, (with interjections from Gwaine), taking care to keep mention of Gaius throughout. It was only later, when their tea was cold in their hands, that Merlin made his move.

“Alice, Gaius needs you,” he said earnestly, “He tries to hide the fact he misses you, but I can tell that he does. He didn’t ask me to find you – he’s never do that, he cares too much about your safety. But won’t you consider coming back? Just for a day. There’s a Yuletide feast in six days’ time. People are coming from all over, so you’d blend in with the crowd, you’d be safe. And you could see Gaius again.”

The boy looked at her pleadingly, but she merely smiled sadly and shook her head.

“If I came, Merlin, I couldn’t resist the temptation to stay. And that’s impossible. I’m an escaped criminal. I couldn’t break Gaius’ heart by being caught and executed.”

“But it’s my fault!” Merlin cried, “I only want to make things better, if only by a little.”

Alice bent down and took his head in her hands.

“It is my fault. I was vain enough to believe my magic was more powerful than it truly was. You had to choose between me and Gaius. I would have gladly died in his place. But he saved my life, again, so I didn’t have to. I owe so much to him. And that is why I cannot go back to Camelot. He’d have to save me again.”

She kissed Merlin’s forehead, and sat back up in her chair. Gwaine put a hand on Merlin’s back. Merlin wanted to hug him then, but he couldn’t really when someone else was around.

“I’ll get the horses,” said Gwaine, stepping outside.

Merlin heard Gregory and Storm whicker in greeting, and Gwaine murmur reassuringly to them.

“I don’t understand,” Merlin said pleadingly to Alice.

“You don’t understand what love is. But there is no shame in that. No-one does. We can only understand what it is to love another person. And you will know that soon enough.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Really?”

Merlin was about to ask her what she meant when Gwaine appeared in the doorway.

“Gregory’s thrown a shoe,” he said.

“I guess I’ll just have to walk back, then,” said Merlin, sighing.

“You can’t. You’ll get back far too late.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

Merlin already knew what he was going to say.

“You ride Storm with me. It’s not far.”

Merlin agreed, and Gwaine pulled him up onto the horse. He felt awkward sitting in front of the knight, even more so when Gwaine pulled an arm around him to hold him on. They nodded a farewell to Alice and rode out of Fangtt. Gregory followed willingly, tethered to his dear Storm. The ride home was slow and quiet. Merlin’s disappointment was apparent.

“I’m sorry,” said Gwaine, after a little way.

Merlin didn’t reply.

“I guess people do mad things for the ones they care about,” said Gwaine, “Leaving them behind, going to prison, risking their lives… making Yuletide decorations.”

The servant smiled despite himself. Gwaine leant closer, his lips by Merlin’s jaw, just under his ear. Merlin felt something inside him squirm. He wanted to… he didn’t know what. But he knew he wanted it to involve him and Gwaine and a lot of physical contact. Just then Gregory nibbled Storm’s ear and she decided he was going too far. She sped up, jerking Merlin and Gwaine apart. Merlin came to his senses. What was he thinking? Gwaine wasn’t interested in that kind of relationship, and neither was he. _Well, actually I am a bit._ But he really shouldn’t be. A small mercy that he realised it now, before things could go any further. The idea was ridiculous – nothing could happen, nothing. Merlin squeezed his eyes shut. Nothing.

 

* * *

 

For the next few days, Merlin felt inescapably melancholic. All around him, the Yuletide he had instigated was falling into place, but now his plan was coming to fruition, he felt little joy. His attempt to bring Gaius happiness had failed, his resolve not to think about Gwaine was crumbling, his duties with Arthur were constant. He just didn’t have the time or inclination to feel excited about the upcoming festivities. Merlin slept little, staying up late to make decorations. His blind focus was such that Gwaine had to physically pull him away from his work.

“Come to bed. Now,” he growled.

That certainly sparked a fresh array of images in Merlin’s mind.

He regretted deciding to get everyone Yuletide presents – that was taking up yet more time he didn’t have. For Gwen, he was making a kissing-bunch, a tradition they’d always done back in Ealdor. Having witnessed Percival’s innate ability to destroy almost anything he came across, Leon had sent him to collect holly from the woods for the YFDC to make into decorations. Of course Percival had no idea what holly was, and merely proceeded to tear off anything green he could find. He proudly presented the resulting mangled mound of foliage to Leon, who then wondered what on earth he was going to do with it all. Merlin had spied a heap of mistletoe amongst the tangle of branches, and snagged it for his own. Gwen would doubtless thank him for it. She’d love anything that meant she could get some more action with Arthur. Merlin meant for the bunch to be tied up in the entrance. It was always best wherever lots of people were toing and froing.

He explained the concept to Lancelot as they sat in Gaius’ workshop one evening with the rest of the YFDC.

“So…” Leon said, “Everyone who goes under the mistletoe has to kiss?”

“Yup,” nodded Merlin, enjoying the knight’s shocked expression.

“Everyone?”

“Lords, servants, knights, maids, stable boys, princesses. Everyone.”

“Even Arthur?”

“I thought I said princesses.”

Leon’s sensibility was offended. Lancelot leant in to Merlin conspiratorially.

“Who are you planning to get under the mistletoe, then?”

“I couldn’t say.”

“Please,” Lancelot said pleadingly, “I’ll tell you who I’d want to get.”

Merlin gave him a look.

“That’s easy. Gwen. It’s not exactly hard to guess.”

Lancelot crossed his arms, scowling.

“Then I’ll guess yours too,” he said decidedly.

Merlin felt a knot of anxiety in his stomach.

“Mary,” said Lancelot.

The boy let out a guffaw.

“I doubt I’d need any mistletoe with her.”

Percival looked up suddenly.

“I like Mary. I like her tavern. She always smiles,” he said, somewhat dreamily.

Merlin and Lancelot blinked.

“Thankyou for that contribution,” said Lancelot, a little lost.

Percival smiled and went back to whatever it was he was doing, probably wrecking someone’s decoration.

“Well,” Lancelot said determinedly, “I’ll find out who it is you want under the mistletoe, Merlin, mark my words.

Gaius, who was doing his rounds of inspection on the team of knights, ready to confiscate any disasters to fix, halted by Merlin and his half-made kissing-bunch.

“Is that what I think it is?” he asked, his tone full of disapproval.

“I don’t know what you think it is, so how could I know?” asked Merlin.

Gaius frowned.

“Is it a kissing-bunch?”

“Yup.”

“I was just saying to Merlin,” Leon said, “I do not think it is at all appropriate.”

“You’d best not stay around to talk,” Merlin suggested, “I’ll put it up and you’ll have to kiss one of the knights.”

Elyan, who had overheard, raised his eyebrows at Leon.

“I bet you’d _hate_ that, wouldn’t you, Leon?”

There was a definite edge to Elyan’s voice, and Leon hurried away, to organise someone elsewhere. Lancelot and Merlin couldn’t suppress a quiet giggle before they set back to work.

Gwaine brushed past Merlin. It was so casual he knew it was deliberate.

“You better watch out yourself,” he said quietly into the boy’s ear, fingers playing with his neckerchief, “A lot of knights hanging around here. And I know at least one who’s dying to get you under that thing.”

Merlin felt hot and flustered and nearly snapped off a stem of the mistletoe in his lost concentration. Then in an instant, Gwaine was gone. The whole incident had only taken a few seconds, but it felt like more to Merlin. He couldn’t believe that no-one had noticed it. None of the knights had even looked up from their work, too engrossed in making decorations to spot a fleeting indiscretion. Merlin relaxed a little. No-one knows. Then he caught sight of Gaius in the corner of the workshop. There was a look on his face that Merlin knew all too well. It was a look that said, _I know, Merlin. Don’t try to hide it from me, because I know._ Merlin panicked slightly. _Calm down._ _He might know, but what_ is _there to know?_ He tried to think rationally about it. Nothing had happened between him and Gwaine. A drunken proposition, but that must happen to everyone once, two kisses, but only on the forehead and hand, hugs, which everyone did with their friends, that business with the sword, but it was completely accidental, sharing a horse, which had been unavoidable. That was all it came down to. Practically nothing. Merlin felt a tug of sadness. He wished it was more.


	6. Morning Glory

Time was running out. Yuletide was only a few days away, then a couple of days, and then just one. Leon was stressing that the decorations wouldn’t go up in time, Gaius was stressing that he still had a horde of knights in his workshop every evening, one of whom was showing no intentions of shifting, Arthur was stressing over his new responsibilities and the speech he had to write for Yuletide, Merlin was stressing because he only had one present sorted, and just two days to organise the other three, and Gwen was stressing because she had to organise the whole of Yuletide for an entire city. Camelot was not a very relaxing place to be.

In the early hours of Yuletide morning, after another late night in which he’d put the final touches to Gwen’s kissing-bunch until Gwaine had dragged him to bed, moaning that he wanted an early night for once (perhaps a hint?), Merlin snuck out of bed. There wasn’t time to organise presents properly now – he was just going to make a batch of Yuletide cakes for Gaius, Lancelot and Gwaine and be done with it. Sleepy and not in the best of moods, the servant set to work. In all honesty, Merlin was not the best cook, and that, mingled with sleep deprivation, proved to be a fatal combination. Waiting for the cakes to bake, Merlin shut his eyes, just for a moment. When he opened them, the cakes were burnt and his work had all gone to waste. Merlin sighed and swore and was so angry that he tossed the ruined food out of the window.

“Aah!”

The shout had come from the street below. It was hard to see in the pre-dawn light, but Merlin could just make out a red cloak. He realised he’d just hit a knight.

“Not again!” the man cried.

_Sir Leon? My bad luck really is remarkable._

Tired and angry, Merlin went back into his room, slamming the door shut behind him, and sat heavily down on his bed to sulk, his eyes stinging with tears. Then something moved from under him.

“Aah!” Merlin cried, jumping in surprise.

_I forgot Gwaine was sleeping in my bed. Hell’s teeth, I am so worn out._

“Uh… Merlin?”

“Sorry,” Merlin whispered, “Go back to sleep.”

“Hey. What’s wrong?”

Gwaine sat up groggily, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

“Nothing.”

“No, it’s not.”

With that, Gwaine yanked his hand, pulling Merlin onto him. The boy lay sprawled on the bed, the knight underneath him. _Not this again._

“Hello there,” said Gwaine, a little surprised.

Merlin blinked.

“Hello.”

“Um… would you rather sit?” Gwaine asked awkwardly.

_Not really._

“Yeah. Yes please.”

Gwaine rolled Merlin to one side, so he was sitting next to him. There wasn’t much room in the narrow bed, and there was a moment’s fumbling as they tried to work out how to put themselves. Eventually, they were reasonably comfortable, although Merlin’s leg was trapped under Gwaine’s. The knight pulled the blanket over them both.

“So, what’s the matter?”

Merlin shrugged.

“I was going to give you all presents for Yuletide. But there wasn’t any time. So I tried to make some cakes just now instead.”

“I said you’d make a good little housewife.”

“I burnt the cakes.”

“Well, maybe not on the baking front.”

“I just wanted everyone to have a lovely Yuletide,” said Merlin, welling up, “And… and…”

“Hey. Hey.”

Gwaine put his arms around Merlin, holding the skinny boy close.

“You’re the one who’s made this Yuletide, Merlin. It was your idea. And you did it for everyone; not just your friends, but all of Camelot. That’s one Hell of a present to give.”

He kissed him then. On the forehead, like before. Only it wasn’t quick and flirtatious this time, but slow and gentle. Merlin couldn’t resist any longer. He drew closer to Gwaine, fingers hungry to feel his skin. He huddled by his side, their arms around one another, Merlin’s face buried in his neck. Gwaine ran his fingers through his hair and held him and he never wanted it to end. _Let’s stay like this for a bit._

 

* * *

 

Merlin felt a slight thrill when he woke up. Sunlight was streaming through the window, resting prettily on the man next to him. He felt Gwaine’s arms pulled around his body, his leg resting between Merlin’s. Gwaine’s smooth hair was sprawled over the bedcover, but Merlin resisted the urge to touch it, in case he woke up. For a second, he almost thought that… And then he remembered. The innocence was at once annoying and rescuing. He almost wanted – but no, that was stupid to think. He was free. He hadn’t done anything. He could walk away scot-free, no stain upon his character, no strings attached, no-one would know, no-one would think. He wasn’t involved. Nothing had happened. It was alright.

“Merlin! Gwaine! Wake up!”

Merlin heard Gaius’ shouts, but they didn’t register in his mind. They were only dim echoes, unimportant.

“Come on, get up!”

The shouts were accompanied by footsteps, getting louder. Their importance didn’t occur to Merlin in his happy sleepy haze.

“If you two don’t get up,” Gaius shouted, opening the bedroom door, “I’ll beat you until you shout –”

Then Gaius saw the two of them, lying in the same bed, curled up with one another.

“Oh my – !”

Merlin knew that the old man had instantly leapt to the wrong conclusion. Well, given the circumstances, it wasn’t really very surprising.

“I don’t believe it!” Gaius cried.

Merlin tried to explain, but his mouth didn’t work and his mind was jumbled.

“Gaius!”

Gwaine stirred from his sleep, eyelids fluttering open _. Shame that. He looked so sweet and calm when he was sleeping._ It amazed Merlin that even in moments of intense stress he still couldn’t avoid silently appreciating Gwaine. The knight blinked at him, confused.

“Merlin?”

Across the room, Gaius frowned severely at him.

“ _Gwaine_!”

Gwaine jumped, looking in astonishment at the angry physician.

“Gaius?”

Gaius fixed his gaze on the boy in Gwaine’s arms.

“Mer _lin_!”

Merlin looked pleadingly at him.

“Gaius –”

“Merlin?” Gwaine repeated, as he gazed at the man he’d woken up with.

Merlin turned to him, desperate to explain what had happened.

“Gwaine…”

The knight was obviously confused, reaching a hand out to touch Merlin’s face as if he couldn’t believe that he was really there. Merlin believed undoubtedly that he was really there.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door of Gaius’ workshop.

“Gaius?”

Merlin heard the door open, and panicked. Gaius whipped round to see his visitor. The name he said next was that of the worst possible person to arrive at that moment (apart from maybe Merlin’s mother).

“Arthur.”

Merlin froze.

“Arthur?” he repeated.

Gaius went to the prince, shutting the bedroom door behind him. Merlin heard Arthur’s raised voice, demanding that Merlin come down at once, as he was already late and, if he hadn’t forgotten, the Yuletide feast he’d insisted upon was today. _Prat_.

“Merlin…” Gwaine breathed, “I, er, I don’t remember – did we just –?”

“No. No,” Merlin said forcefully, “Early this morning, I was upset. We sat in the bed and you, uh, comforted me. Remember?”

The recollection sparked in Gwaine’s eyes.

“Oh yeah. You fell asleep on me. You looked so sweet I didn’t want to wake you.”

Gwaine ruffled Merlin’s hair, and Merlin knew it was his way of saying, ‘Everything’s back to normal’. Sadly, it wasn’t, as they were about to find out.

“Mer _lin_!” Arthur shouted as he hurtled into the bedroom, Gaius following him helplessly.

The prince stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the scene before him.

“Woah. You – Merlin – Gwaine? I didn’t – oh…”

For once, he was rendered speechless. If only that could happen more often, Merlin might lead a more peaceful life.

“It’s not like that,” Merlin cried.

His protestation was met with two incredulous looks.

“Look,” Merlin said, “We’re both dressed.”

He swept the blanket off the bed, leaving it to crumple on the floor. Arthur and Gaius stared, wide-eyed, at Gwaine. _What? I know he only wears breeches to bed, but that’s hardly scandalous._ Then Merlin looked at Gwaine and realised that this wasn’t the case. Gwaine wasn’t wearing breeches today. Nor was he wearing anything else. Merlin felt the blood rush to his face, as well as somewhere else. Gwaine grinned up at Gaius and Arthur, utterly shameless.

“Merry Yuletide!”


	7. A Mistletoe Kiss

“So last night. All of last night. When we were in my bed. You were naked?”

Gwaine shrugged.

“I was hot.”

“It’s December!”

“It’s quite liberating actually. You should try it.”

“No!”

“There goes my chance to see you naked.”

Merlin and Gwaine were in the entrance to the castle. Beyond the great doors, which lay ajar, was the Great Hall, where the rest of the YFDC were stringing up chains of ribbon in time for the evening’s merriments, out of sight from Merlin and Gwaine’s position behind the right-hand door. It was just them in the empty foyer, as the Great Hall was to be the actual site of the feast, so needed the most lavish decorations. Merlin had strung up Gwen’s kissing-bunch dead in the centre of the room, and it swung merrily just overhead. Gwaine had held the ladder in place for him, and it had been so tempting to get him under it. But he’d let the opportunity pass him by, and now they were busy encircling the walls with bright bunting. There was still a lot left to do now, and Merlin held the bunting in place whilst Gwaine did the manly thing and nailed it to the wall. Arthur had freed Merlin from work that day. He said it was so he could spend the time helping out with the feast, but Merlin suspected it was more to do with his finding his manservant in bed with a man he’d knighted.

They had managed to explain the real story to Gaius and Arthur, but it was obvious that they didn’t believe them. It annoyed Merlin that they thought relations between him and Gwaine were more than they were. If he was actually with Gwaine, he wouldn’t mind so much, but as it was, he had the negatives of being with Gwaine (i.e. other people finding out), as well as the negatives of not being with Gwaine (i.e. not being able to get off with him). There were absolutely no positives to the situation. Although he _did_ get to see Gwaine naked. After the events of that morning, Merlin had been forced to admit to himself he _liked_ Gwaine. But it felt all the more hopeless. There were too many stories about taverns and women. And hadn’t Merlin loved Freya? Or maybe, just maybe, there was a first time for everything.

“You’re embarrassed,” said Gwaine.

“And you’re not? Gwaine, you are truly without shame.”

Gwaine grinned as he put down his hammer. He looked keenly at Merlin, fingers playing deliberately with his neckerchief, at once mischievous and seductive. Merlin didn’t quite know where to put himself, how to act, where to look.

“You know what I’ve always liked about you, Merlin? You pull the most adorable faces. Especially when you’re confused. Like now.”

“Gwaine… I…”

“Ssh.”

Gwaine put a finger to his lips. Merlin stared straight at him.

“And another thing I like about you? This morning you looked at me when I was naked like you wanted it.”

“Gwaine!” Leon called, poking his head around the door, “Will you help me carry the holly wreaths to the antechamber!”

Gwaine sighed, letting his hand drop.

“One minute, Leon.”

“No, now! We don’t have any time!”

“One minute!”

“But we have to get the holly wre–”

“The world does not revolve around decorations!”

“How dare you –”

Merlin pushed Gwaine gently out of the door.

“Go on, help him,” he said.

Gwaine reluctantly did as he was bidden, trailing along after Sir Leon.

“And Merlin! We’ve got a feast to prepare, so don’t just hang about!” Leon cried, as he and Gwaine left the Great Hall, laden with holly wreaths.

Unwillingly, Merlin complied, lost in thought. He was confused and scared and excited at nervous all at the same time. Had he really looked at Gwaine like he wanted him? Did Gwaine know how he felt? With a terrible lurch, Merlin remembered what Gwaine had said that night just a fortnight ago when he’d drunkenly tried to seduce Merlin. _“You know what I’ve always liked about you, Merlin? You pull the most adorable faces. Especially when you’re confused. Like now.” and “That’s another thing I like about you. Sometimes you look at me like I’m naked and you want it.”_ It was almost exactly what he’d just been saying to him. So that meant… oh, Hell… that meant Gwaine remembered that night. He remembered asking Merlin to bed, and what the response had been. All this time, when Merlin had been trying to forget about it, Gwaine had known. Did that mean he was just playing with him? Merlin didn’t want to think that his friend would be that cruel, but friendship and love were two completely separate games, with different rules. What did Gwaine mean? Merlin had to know, he had to talk to him. He went about his work, inexorable but absentminded. Perhaps this was how it felt to be Percival.

“Good morning, Merlin.”

The voice roused Merlin from his thoughts and he dropped what he was doing at once. Unfortunately, what he was doing had been nailing bunting to the wall, so dropping the bunting, nails and hammer was nearly very painful. Perturbed, Merlin turned to see who had disturbed him.

“Gwen!”

“You’re a little tired, I see. Well, I guess it isn’t surprising. It’s good to see you up, at last.”

“I’m sorry. I slept late.”

Gwen smiled, a slight twinkle in her eye.

“It’s alright. We’re all a bit worn out. You have good reason to be. You’ve been quite busy lately.”

The slight emphasis she put on her words made all that she said sound ever so slightly euphemistic. Merlin narrowed his eyes.

“Have you been speaking to Arthur?”

“No. Why?”

“Why the knowing smile?”

“Woman’s intuition.”

Merlin had yet to be convinced of that strangely convenient phenomenon.

“Enlighten me.”

Gwen looked as though she wanted to do nothing else. She giggled, shutting the doors for privacy.

“You and Gwaine are hardly subtle. There’s a lot of evidence against you, Merlin. You mysteriously disappeared on a certain afternoon last week. And there was that sly kiss on the knights’ training ground. Not to mention that business with the sword…”

“How do you know about that?”

“Elyan told me. He tells me everything. Oh, there’s the puppy-dog eyes you and Gwaine give each other every time you’re in the same room. And when he sneakily wore your neckerchief at the YFDC, and not so sneakily flirting with you like there’s no tomorrow. Add in the way that you two both came down late today, looking more dishevelled than normal, and it’s obvious. My conclusion: you and Gwaine are in love.”

Merlin had to admit that it was suspicious when you looked at it that way. But it really wasn’t like that.

“We’re not in love.”  
  
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell a soul.”

_I doubt that._

“Really,” Merlin said earnestly, “Nothing’s happened between us.”

“Well, maybe you’re not doing it –”

“No. I really mean nothing.”

Gwen frowned.

“What – he hasn’t – he must have kissed you?”

Merlin shook his head.

“But you want him to. Don’t you?”

“I don’t know… I… I don’t know what being with someone means. What I’d be letting myself in for.”

“Emotionally?”

“Anatomically.”

Gwen widened her eyes.

“Merlin… You _do_ know the facts of life?”

“Yes! But that doesn’t extend to… other – things.”

“Well, nature is the best teacher,” said Gwen slyly, “But I’m here now.”

“You – you know about that?” Merlin asked, stunned, “How?”

“You know I said Elyan tells me everything? Well, I meant it.”

Merlin was more surprised than he could say.

“Elyan?” he repeated, “Who’s his – er – man?”

Gwen gave him a look.

“Who do you think?”

Merlin really had no clue. He couldn’t think of anyone that close to Gwen’s brother.

“Leon, of course,” said Gwen, “Aren’t they obvious?”

Leon? Well. That was. A turn out for the books. But as Merlin thought about it, it started to make sense. Leon and Elyan were always together at the YFDC – and when he was making the kissing-bunch, Elyan had made that comment about kissing knights. Then there was that time when they were helping Lancelot and Percival move into their new place. Elyan had said Leon needed his help with decorations. Merlin wondered just how many decorations they’d got down to making. _And_ , he thought, his mind racing, _That’s why I’ve been accidentally dropping things on Leon in the mornings._ He was walking past their window, which lay between Elyan’s forge and his quarters. He did it early in the morning so that no-one would know he’d really spent the night at the blacksmith’s. Percival had been sleeping down in the stable when he was there – he’d never have known.

“They met when Elyan first came to Camelot,” said Gwen, “He mended Leon’s armour and sharpened his sword.”

_I bet he did._

“Wow,” Merlin breathed, “So… uh, what can you tell me?”

And that was when Merlin filled in a blank chapter in the book that was his life. Finally, he learnt ‘What to Do When a Handsome Knight Asks You to Bed’. It was an informative experience, to say the least. Merlin listened quietly enough, with only the odd interjection of, “With your _tongue_?” and “It goes _where_?”. By the end of the talk, he was far better informed and less nervous, if a little grossed out, about the whole process.

“Thanks, Gwen,” he said, when she’d told him all she knew.

He was embarrassed, but he was glad that he knew, and that he’d found out through a friend he could trust.

“Don’t say I never do anything for you. That knowledge will come in handy. He won’t expect you to know. Surprise him.”

“Surprise who?”

Arthur appeared through the great doors. He had eyes only for Guinevere. Eventually he stopped drooling at her and noticed that Merlin was also in the room. Evidently, he could guess who Gwen had meant by ‘him’, and was now being disturbed by that thought.

“Ah. I see.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Gwen as he came to stand beside her.

“You _are_ talking about Gwaine?”

“You know about that, too?” Gwen said, surprised.

“Well, all I know is that this morning I found my servant in bed with a knight of Camelot.”

“But you said…” Gwen said to Merlin, confused.

“I told you what really happened!” Merlin said to Arthur pleadingly.

“Mmm. ‘We fell asleep.’ Very convincing.”

“He was telling the truth,” said Gwen, “We just had a little chat about _the birds and the bees_.”

“Merlin,” said Arthur, “You _do_ know the facts of life?”

“Yes, just not how to do it with a man!” Merlin blustered, embarrassed that everyone suddenly seemed to know intimate details about his personal life, “Now can we stop talking about this!”

“Of course,” said Gwen, with a patronising, motherly tone to her voice, “But if you ever need to chat, you can always ask Aunty Gwen.”

Merlin nodded feebly, anything to stop the ‘Let’s embarrass Merlin!’ session.

“Let me know how it goes,” Gwen added, with a wink.  
  
“Anyway,” said Merlin loudly, clapping his hands together, “Now that you’re both here, I want to show you something.”

He pointed to the kissing-bunch, which hung merrily from the ceiling. Gwen grinned, but Arthur frowned up at it in bewilderment.

“Er… thankyou?” he said, baffled.

“You don’t know what it is, do you?” Merlin said, sighing.

“A plant ball thingy?”

“Yes, Arthur, I made you a plant ball thingy.”

“Thankyou, it’s the best one I’ve ever seen.”

“No!” Merlin cried, “It’s a kissing-bunch. We’ve always put one up at Yuletide in my village.”

“So… what does it do?”

“Everyone who sets foot under it has to kiss.”

“What sort of a village do you come from?”

Gwen giggled.

“It’s actually quite a widespread tradition, Arthur,” she told him, “It’s just not a custom in the higher classes. It’s more something the ordinary people do.”

“What is happening to our moral standards?” said Arthur, shaking his head.

He reached a hand out to the bough of foliage.

“Don’t ruin it!” cried Merlin, leaping towards Arthur to save his creation.

He didn’t budge, and picked a white berry from it.

“Is this mistletoe?”

“Yes, so don’t destroy it! It took me ages to make,” Merlin complained.

Gwen cleared her throat. As Merlin and Arthur looked at her, her eyes went from them, to a point directly above their heads. They followed her line of sight. Oh. Dear.

“We don’t have to…” Arthur said, his fear apparent, “We’re both men. Even if Merlin is a complete girl. And like you said, it’s not a tradition nobles take part in.”

“I’m sorry,” said Gwen, barely able to hide her smile, “Everyone has to kiss under the mistletoe. That’s the rules.”

It seemed Arthur was not happy with these rules.

“They’re not written down,” he said staunchly, “They’re not _laws_. I don’t _have_ to –”

“Oh, shut up, you prat,” said Merlin, and he grabbed Arthur by the shoulders and kissed him full on the lips.  
It was interesting, Merlin decided, but he didn’t really enjoy it. There was a time when he would have. Arthur did not pull away – shock, Merlin guessed – so he broke the kiss before it turned into a full-on snog. Arthur looked at him with fresh eyes.

“Woah. I’ve never – that – er… That was, uh…”

Then he regained his composure.

“Disgusting, and we will never speak of it again.”

Then his eyes flicked downwards and he murmured something to his manservant. Just four words, but they were enough.

“Gwaine’s a lucky man.”

And then he turned back to Gwen and he was his normal arrogant self again. But Merlin knew that in that brief moment, he had shared some truth with his master. He believed that Arthur really did think Gwaine was lucky to have him, that Merlin was worth loving, that he didn’t mind they were together – in fact, he approved of it. It meant more to Merlin than Arthur knew. Or perhaps Arthur did know. Perhaps he understood that there had been something unsaid between them, but had been left unsaid and come to nothing. Now they’d both moved on, and it was truly over, whatever it was. _Except that I’m not with Gwaine. Not in any sense of the word._

As Arthur and Gwen left to prepare for the feast, the maid teasing her prince, Lancelot bounded towards Merlin, laughing.

“I told you I’d find out who you wanted to get under that mistletoe,” he said, careful not to step under it himself.

“Oh – no!” spluttered Merlin, “I don’t like Arthur.”

“Sure. And that aggressive grab wasn’t passionate at all.”

“No, Lancelot –”

“It doesn’t matter. It was funny to watch. Gwaine and I found it entertaining, at least.”

 _Oh no. No he didn’t see that. He_ didn’t _. It was only a mistletoe kiss…_

“Gwaine?”

“He came back to see you, but then he saw you’d got under the mistletoe with Arthur, and stayed to see what happened. I don’t think he wanted to miss out on something so funny! We saw the whole thing from round the doors. Oh, but don’t worry, it was only us who saw, and we’re not the gossiping kind.”

_Oh Hell. He’d finally finished doing whatever Leon had saddled him with and he snuck back to see me… And found me with Arthur…_

“Where is Gwaine?”

The knight shrugged.

“He said something about finishing something? I guess he meant more of those stupid holly wreaths. He’ll be around.”

Gwaine had gone to finish something? Merlin felt a lump in his throat. Was Gwaine going to finish them? To finish whatever chance they’d had? He’d spent the lat two weeks telling himself that nothing had happened between them, trying to block it all out. Gwaine must have got the negative signals, and now this… Merlin remembered what Gwaine had said that frosty morning when they rode to Fangtt. _“You told me I couldn’t live the way I was living forever. You were right. And I don’t want to live like that. I’d rather stay in Camelot with you.”_ What if he wanted to pack it all in? To go back to his old life? Merlin’s mind buzzed and whirred and he couldn’t think clearly anymore.

“Hey, are you alright?” asked Lancelot.

“Yeah. Fine. Just tired. You know, I think I left my… ribbon garlands in my room. I’ll just go get them.”  
  
With this feeble excuse, Merlin hurried out of the Great Hall, heading back to Gaius’ chambers with feverish worry. He guessed that was where Gwaine would go first – that was where all of his things were. He wouldn’t leave without it. Merlin burst into Gaius’ workshop as though he were being relentlessly pursued by a ravening monster (which had happened on a few occasions.)

“Be careful with the door, Merlin!” Gaius scolded as the boy shut it in haste.

“Sorry.”

Merlin’s eyes scanned the room. There was no sign of Gwaine. But his things were still there – that was something.

“What is it you want?” Gaius prompted, after a pause.

“Er, I think I left my ribbon garlands in here.”

Merlin made an attempt at pretending to search for them, but even he knew it was a weak performance. Gaius looked up from the potion he was making, unimpressed.

“Merlin.”

Merlin stopped wandering around the room.

“It’s no mystery what you’re really looking for,” said the old man, “What is a mystery is why you waste your energy pretending that you aren’t here for it. I _was_ there this morning, remember?”

“That wasn’t what it looked like. I already explained!” Merlin said, frustrated.

How much did he have to protest before they believed him? He was guilty until proven innocent around here.

“Forgive me if I don’t believe that half-baked story you came up with. There really is only one explanation to finding two people in bed. Naked.”

“Only Gwaine was naked!”

Gaius sighed and pulled up a chair. He motioned for Merlin to do the same, and he complied, feeling spent and wound-up.

“Merlin,” said Gaius, “When you’re young, everything is fresh and new. It’s easy to get ahead of yourself. I was young once, I’ve been there. Well, not exactly _there_ , but I do know how it is. You can get swept up in your excitement, and with youth comes haste. That’s why it’s so important to bide your time, to wait, to be certain, and only then to allow your feelings to take hold. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Merlin did understand. He knew what Gaius was saying, and he knew that it wasn’t what the old man really felt.

“You think that because I’m young, and inexperienced, and naïve, and Gwaine’s been a rascal to dozens before, that he’s taking advantage of me.”

His tone was even. He wasn’t upset, or angry, just calm. Gaius saw this.

“Yes. That is what I think. But I am only letting you know so out of concern for you, for your wellbeing.”

Merlin nodded.

“I’m afraid I’ve disappointed you, Gaius. Being too trusting, too willing. Weak.”

“No. Merlin, I am proud of you,” said Gaius firmly, “Finding a naked man in your bed was… unexpected, but life is full of surprises. I will respect anyone who you choose to love. So long as they respect you.”

 _That’s a veiled threat._ Merlin knew what Gaius was like when he was angry. If anyone treated him wrong, they’d certainly have it coming to them.

“Just think carefully about your choice,” said Gaius, “And your actions.”

Merlin bit his lip, and nodded. He felt a sudden surge of love for Gaius. He’d always been so good to him, treated him like his own son. It wasn’t fair that he should be alone, when the woman he loved was so close. If only she would come to Camelot. But she had refused, and now Merlin didn’t know if they’d ever see her again. That was what made him doubt in love. He wanted to believe, he wanted to have a future. But how could he when those who loved one another stayed apart? He feared love just brought more trouble than joy.

“If you see Gwaine, will you…” Merlin began, but he didn’t know how to finish.

Will you tell him not to leave? Will you tell him to see me? He couldn’t say it.

“Try not to murder him,” Merlin said eventually.

Gaius smiled.

“I’ll try.”


	8. The Yuletide Feast

Merlin spent the next five hours throwing himself into the Yuletide feast preparations. There wasn’t much time left, as festivities were to begin at sundown. First, Arthur would give a speech in the courtyard outside, and invite everyone to the banquet. The Great Hall was the feasting place for nobles and peasants alike. After the feast, there was to be singing and dancing and merriment out on the streets. Work was a great solace, and he didn’t think about Gwaine so much when he was busy. He was still a nagging thought at the back of his mind, though. The fear that Gwaine would go, would leave him, was still very real. Merlin put up holly wreaths, wrapped ivy down banisters and hung up fabric hearts. When he saw the one with wonky stitches, he felt a twinge, because he knew that Gwaine had made it (with his help). He remembered the evening when he’d made it. What was it that Gwaine had said? _“You can’t just unpick my heart.” “I can.” “I think you already have.”_ Merlin felt like his heart was unpicked now, and it was Gwaine who was unraveling the thread. Could he trust him to hold the needle, to sew it back up again?

Yuletide was coming along nicely, and the preparations all went without any major disasters. Although Leon did have a sudden panic attack in the afternoon when he realised that no-one had organised a Yuletide log.

“It doesn’t belong in the YFFDC, or the YFSDC, and it doesn’t belong in the YFDC either. I’ve asked them to help, but the YFFDC say it’s nothing to do with them, and the YFSDC are running late on their schedule,” he cried, panicked.

Merlin was struggling with all these acronyms. Lancelot explained to him that as well as the Yuletide Feast Decoration Committee (YFDC), there was also the Yuletide Feast Food and Drink Committee (YFFDC), and the Yuletide Feast Song and Dance Committee (YFSDC). Merlin hadn’t realised there were all these other committees hanging around. He thought it was just Leon being OCD. _Woah, now there really are too many acronyms._ In the end, Percival, who was at a bit of a loose end once there was nothing left to hammer into solid stone, offered to do it, and that calmed Leon down somewhat. That was until Percival returned. Somehow, he had managed to fell one of the largest trees Merlin had ever seen. He happily presented it to Sir Leon. The panic rose up in his mind again, and he had to spend a few minutes in the corner before he could speak to anyone.

Merlin kept a keen eye out for Gwaine, but whether he was in the courtyard lighting torches, or the Great Hall setting the tables, the knight was no-where to be seen. Eventually, Sir Leon’s motley team of knights had to stop, having put all of their decorations in place, and allow the public to enter the courtyard to receive the prince’s speech. Realising that it was going to be jam-packed very soon, Merlin found a good place to stand, the balcony from which Arthur was to deliver his speech in view. Lancelot, Percival, Elyan and Leon came with him. It felt odd that they were all together without Gwaine. Merlin said so, but the others said he was probably just busy elsewhere, as help was needed all around Camelot to put the final touches in place. Still, Merlin felt uneasy. At first, there was only a small crowd in the courtyard, but it quickly grew in size until the entire courtyard was packed with people, and it kept on growing until it flowed out into the streets. By sundown, it was noisy and full of life. The excitement and anticipation of the crowd was palpable. The people’s faces were lit up by the burning torches, flickering in the winter air. The sheer mass of people meant that it was actually quite warm, even though it was December. Merlin felt a little pride that he was the reason all these people were excited. And a lot of anxiety that it would have been worth everyone’s while.

Finally, the big moment came, and a round of trumpets signified the arrival of Prince Arthur. A hush fell upon the crowd as he appeared before them, a figure in red with a crown upon his head. Gwen was at his side, blushing and obviously bursting with happiness. True, it was only the small gold band of a prince, but it wasn’t hard for Merlin to imagine that Arthur was King, giving a speech to his people, and Gwen, his loyal wife. In an odd way, he was proud of him, of the person he’d become. He had been an arrogant, conceited, selfish prat. And now he was just a prat. And Merlin thought quietly to himself that this improvement was partly his doing.

“I greet you all, good people of Camelot,” Arthur greeted them, his voice loud and strong, “And a warm welcome to all those who have travelled here from outlying towns and villages. It brings me great joy to see so many people have come to share in our festivities.”

At this, there was a great cheer in the crowd.

“We have all gathered here to celebrate Yuletide,” Arthur continued, once the cheer had died down, “An old and valued tradition. The merriment of Yuletide, at the very heart of winter, shows us all that even when life is at its hardest, there is still joy to be found. Likewise all you who have suffered, who have lived through our recent difficulties and faced the challenges we have all had to face, can find joy now, in joining with me in this Yuletide Feast.”

 _Nice simile._ The crowd loved this, cheering again.

“The road here has not been an easy one,” Arthur continued, “And I know that in Camelot, there are still matters that must be resolved. Some of these can be solved easily, but others will take more time and work. But they are all steps along the road to a brighter future. A stronger kingdom. A reliable life. A better Camelot, for you, and for your children.”

Everyone applauded, even louder than before. Merlin marvelled at how happy they were, despite the fact that Arthur had just told them that tough times were ahead. It was the way he said it that made them applaud, made them hope.

“Before we begin, I would like to thank all of the people who have come together to create this feast tonight,” said the prince, “Truly, you have all worked as one to create something we will all enjoy. But it is to Guinevere that I commend the highest thanks, because it is her hard work in organising the whole event that has made it possible.”

There was a great cheer for Gwen, and Arthur gazed proudly at her until the crowd had quieted.

“And so,” he declared, “Without further ado, I welcome you all to Camelot’s Yuletide Feast!”

A great cheer, the loudest of them all, soared from the people.

As everyone filed into the Great Hall, Merlin’s kissing-bunch really came into its own. At first, only the lower classes took part in it. Husbands kissed wives and teenagers kissed their sweethearts. But before long everyone was joining in. Noblemen kissed chamber maids, stable boys kissed ladies, and knights kissed peasants. Merlin was anxious to avoid it. He’d already had enough trouble with that today, and Mary was probably lurking around somewhere, ready to drag him under it. The feast was a great success. The kitchen staff had truly excelled themselves, cooking meats, pies, and preparing all manner of food, much of which none of the peasants had ever tasted before. Everyone had come – children, cramming their faces with sticky desserts, mothers trying to keep an eye on their broods, men laughing amongst themselves, and young lads and lasses eyeing one another from across the Great Hall in their separate groups, excited about who would ask them to dance later. Merlin scanned the room for Gwaine, but try as he might, he was nowhere to be seen in the heaving mass of people.

After the feast, everyone filed outside for the dancing and merriment. Ale was served, and Merlin and his friends stood in the corner of a street drinking. As knights, they were respected. Throughout the evening, men had nodded towards them in greeting, and Merlin even noticed a few of the girls looking in their direction. He felt rather out of place, a simple servant among these high-ranking men. But then, Lancelot, Elyan, Percival and Gwaine had been knighted in a bit of a hurry, and as none of them were nobles (except Gwaine), they didn’t strictly have the right to a knighthood. Gwaine was right, though; the accident of birth wasn’t important; a man’s actions were. _Oh, where are you, Gwaine?_ It was strange that he wasn’t here with them, especially when there was alcohol here.

“A toast,” said Elyan, “To all members of the YFDC. Especially its leader. Camelot looks magnificent.”

Elyan was right. Camelot was a sight for sore eyes. It was even more splendid than Merlin’s first Yuletide there. The whole city was a vision of red and green. Admittedly, the quality of the decorations did differ (anything Percival had made was a complete write-off) but they all brought colour to Camelot. The knights’ hard work, Leon’s dedication, and Merlin’s late nights had paid off.

“To the YFDC!” they all called, clapping their tankards together.

“I can’t believe it. You’re drinking without me?”

Just to hear that voice made Merlin abruptly cheerful.

“Gwaine!” he cried, smiling broadly at the knight.

He passed his tankard to Lancelot and hugged Gwaine tightly. _I was so scared you were leaving._

“Steady on!” said Gwaine, at this sudden display of affection.

Merlin withdrew, somewhat awkwardly.

“I’ve been wondering where you were,” he said quietly.

“Ah, I was sorting out a few things. Finally doing something I should have done a while ago.”

His words sent a wave of uneasiness over Merlin, but he calmed himself with the fact that Gwaine had stayed.

“I knew you couldn’t be far away,” said Elyan, “Not when there’s ale around.”

“Can you just try to be a little more responsible this time?” Leon asked hopefully.

“I’m not that bad!”

“Merlin, tell Gwaine what happened last time,” Leon said sternly.

_You tried to get me to sleep with you. And I didn’t say no. Lucky you passed out._

“Er… You kept collapsing on me.”

“And saying you have pretty eyes,” Lancelot added.

“Alcohol does affect my judgement,” Gwaine admitted, “I know I’ve done a few things I’ve lived to regret. And a few that scared me a bit when I remembered them, eh, Merlin?”

 _What… You lived to regret propositioning me?_ Merlin was strangely hurt by this. Gwaine _should_ regret asking that of his best friend, but did that mean he wasn’t interested, that he never would be? Would never want that with Merlin? _And I just asked Gwen to tell me all about it. I went through that embarrassment for you._

“But,” said Gwaine, “Before I get too drunk, I have an announcement to make.”

Merlin was feeling a little angry with him, but now that was mixed with fear. _Don’t you dare leave._

“It’s sort of a Yuletide present for you, Merlin,” Gwaine went on, “Well, you and Gaius. But it’s not really something I’m giving you, more something you won’t have.”

“Now _you’re_ speaking in riddles,” said Merlin, anxious to hear what he had to say and be done with it.

“I’ve found a house in the Middle Town. Nothing fancy. But finally, you’ll be rid of me. I’ll be out of your way for good.”

“Oh,” said Merlin, “That’s… a surprise.”

Gwaine smiled.

“I knew you’d be pleased. I know I’ve been getting in your way.”

“You haven’t.”

“Try telling that to Gaius,” said Lancelot.

“I’ll, er, I’ll still see you about, right?” Merlin asked hesitantly.

Gwaine shrugged.

“Yeah, a bit. But no more evenings sitting up ‘til midnight, no more mornings dragging me out of bed. We’ll have a bit of time to ourselves for a change. I’m sure we could both do with that.”

_I don’t want time to myself._

“Gaius will be pleased,” said Merlin, smiling weakly, “Actually, I’ll go find him to tell him.”

He wanted to be alone, just to get his head clear.

“He already knows,” said Gwaine, “He’s the one who got me to go. He found me this afternoon and said he’d spoken to you. Wanted me to be responsible for a change.”

_I want to kill myself, Gwaine and Gaius. But not in that order._

“Oh. Well I’ll go find him anyway. He’s probably wondering where I am.”

“He knows you’re with us, doesn’t he?” Leon asked, “You did tell him?”

“No. I was irresponsible.”

And with that, Merlin scurried away.

The crowd was hemming him in, the noise was deafening, the heat was stifling. He was suffocated in the Great Hall, trapped. Pushing his way through the people, Merlin finally made his way outside, into the cool night. He leant against the cold stone wall of the castle, his breath visible in the air. His heart pounded. Gwaine wanted to stay in Camelot, but he didn’t want to stay with Merlin. He’d made it quite clear that he didn’t want him around. He’d said it like Merlin didn’t want him, that it was his fault he was leaving. Was that what he really thought? Did he truly believe that Merlin wanted him out of his way? Or was he just using that as an excuse? Did _he_ want Merlin out of _his_ way? Was he not interested, or was he tired of waiting? Had Merlin unpicked his heart and not tried to fix it? But he hadn’t known, it wasn’t his fault… Or maybe it was.

Maybe there was a reason why this always happened to him. Him and Freya had come to nothing. Him and Arthur, whatever feelings there were, had come to nothing. And now him and Gwaine. He’d thought that they’d had something. He’d liked Gwaine the moment he’d met him, swaggering over to save his and Arthur’s necks. There must have been something that had made him want to stand up for the two strangers, to risk his life to save them. He intrigued Merlin, with his reckless life and feisty attitude. They were very different, but that was partly what he really liked about Gwaine. He livened Camelot up, made even a dull or bleak situation bearable. He surprised him with how caring he could really be. It was only last night when Merlin had fallen asleep in his arms, safe and calmed, but now he didn’t think that was ever going to happen again. Now Gwaine was making an effort to be away from him. Did he know how much he was hurting Merlin? Did he just not care? Had he played him, messed him around for a bit of fun, just to see how he’d react? _Love doesn’t exist. At least not for me._ For a long time, Merlin leant against the wall, alone, and cried.


	9. Reunions

“Merlin! Merlin, what’s wrong?”

Merlin looked up. It was Gaius. Merlin wanted to be angry with him for sending Gwaine away, but he couldn’t manage it. If there was anyone to be angry with, it was Gwaine, and he was doing a good job of being furious right now.

“Merlin, you’re crying.”

Merlin hadn’t noticed the tears running down his face, but now he felt them, hot and salty, and wiped them away in shame.

“Gwaine’s found a house in the Middle Town.”

“Aren’t you pleased?”

“Pleased?” Merlin sputtered, “Pleased that he doesn’t want to see me anymore? He said he was getting out of my way. He thinks we need some time alone.”

“But if he got a house… That’s not what I…”

“You did speak to him, didn’t you?”

“Yes. But I didn’t tell him to leave. I told him I’d spoken to you, and it would put my mind at rest if he showed he could be dependable, and that he could be trusted for the future.”

“And he shows that by getting away from me?” Merlin cried.

“Merlin, I never meant for you to be apart. I only wanted Gwaine to show me he was good enough for you. You must believe me.”

“I believe you. It’s alright, Gaius. It isn’t you. It’s him. He’s jumped the ship. The moment he had to be responsible, he ran away. You were right. He never really cared about me. Not enough to actually be accountable for his actions for once.”

Gaius was appalled.

“So he has despoiled you and abandoned you? I will not allow for such behaviour. Surely he must be cast out. He is already banished – we must be able to make sure it happens properly this time.”

“No,” said Merlin, “Don’t. Please. He hasn’t broken any laws.”

“I understand that it is not an easy thing to admit, but Gwaine must be punished.”

“He never made any promises to me. He never told me he cared about me. He never laid a hand on me.”

“But –”

“It’s only my feelings that have been hurt, and nothing else. We were never _together_ , Gaius.”

“But you have – _been_ together?”

“No. He never touched me.”

“You can’t ask me to deny the evidence of my own eyes.”

Merlin finally accepted that he couldn’t, and he wasn’t going to be able to convince Gaius. He didn’t try to anymore. It wasn’t so bad – Gaius had told him his thoughts on it. It changed things, but not irreconcilably. It was just something Merlin was going to have to live with.

“Gwaine’s done nothing wrong,” he said pleadingly, “Please, don’t say anything. Not to him, not to anyone. I can’t bear for anyone to know. You’ll keep it secret. Won’t you?”

Gaius sighed.

“I will.”

He embraced Merlin, and the boy felt his heart unravel.

“Whatever happens, Merlin,” said Gaius, holding him at arm’s length, “I want you to know that I will always love you as my own son. I never had a wife or children – that part of life passed me by – but if I did, I would be proud to call you mine.”

“Gaius…”

“Gaius?”

A voice called out from the shadows of the street, its owner hidden by the night.

“Yes,” said Gaius, “Who is it?”

A figure drew nearer. It was an old woman, her clothes tattered, a scarf pulled over her head.

“Are you alright?” asked Gaius, as she hobbled closer.

She stopped as she reached the old man.

“Much better for seeing you again,” she said, and threw the scarf off her head.

“Alice! Oh, Alice!”

They laughed and hugged one another, and suddenly their life was back in them, and they were young again.

“You are well?” Gaius asked, “Is everything alright? You aren’t ill, are you? Or hurt? I heard many were injured by Cenred’s army. You weren’t one of them, were you?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” said Alice, laughing, “Don’t worry. What about you?”

“I’m well, thankyou. Oh, Alice. I never thought I’d see you again.”

“That does keep happening to us.”

“But why are you back in Camelot? It’s dangerous for you to be here.”

“I have Merlin to thank,” Alice smiled, nodding at the boy, “He came to find me. He said I was wanted here.”

“Merlin rode out to find you?” Gaius asked.

“With his handsome knight,” said Alice.

Merlin was defensive.

“He’s not mine.”

 _And now he never will be._ Alice gave him a look.

“He was when I spoke to him.”

Merlin remembered something from his visit to Fangtt.

“Is that what you were talking about when I went to fetch your basket?”

“You eavesdropped?”

Merlin shifted from foot to foot.

“No… I just overheard a little as I was coming back. You said something about secrets, but I didn’t hear any more. What did he say?”

“Perhaps you should ask him.”

The boy shook his head sadly.

“I can’t speak to him now. Things have – changed.”

“Love doesn’t just fly away overnight,” said Alice adamantly.

 _I think it does._ Then Merlin realised something.

“Love?”

“Yes. It was obvious he loved you. He only needed a little pressing to admit it. He seemed a little scared of me, so I think that helped.”

“Wait – he said he loved me?” Merlin asked, finding it hard to believe.

The old woman nodded. _Gwaine loves me? Or_ loved _me._

“He… never told me that,” said Merlin, a little dazed.

“It’s not an easy thing to say, Merlin,” said Gaius, holding Alice’s hands protectively.

“If he loved you then, why shouldn’t he now?” Alice asked.

Merlin thought about it. He couldn’t think of a good reason. Things had been going well for them. They’d had fun together (though sadly not that much), even pushed the boundaries of physical contact a little. Was kissing Arthur under the mistletoe so bad that it destroyed all of that? How could a moment ruin months of friendship, and weeks of treading the lines between that and love? _It can’t. Love lasts_. Alice and Gaius were living proof of that. Even after twenty years apart, they still loved one another. They’d never given up hope that one day, they’d find each other again. _Gwaine can’t have given up on me just yet._ Merlin had thought he’d given up on Gwaine, angrily said that this was the end for them, but that wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. _I love him,_ thought Merlin, the idea making him catch his breath, _I really love him._ Gwaine was loyal and honest, brave and kind, and without him, Merlin would probably lead a quiet life. But he didn’t want to. Gwaine was fun. He brightened Camelot up, especially in these dark times, and it meant a lot to Merlin that he could make him smile even when things looked bleak. He was a reassuring presence, a strong friend. And Merlin loved him. He knew it now, though it had taken him so long to discover. Merlin wanted him and needed him and loved him.

“You’re right,” he said.

“Then go after him,” Alice said, “Go on.”

Merlin nodded, and took a deep breath.

“Wish me luck,” he said, and sped off.

 _What am I doing?_ Merlin thought, as he waded through the thick crowds. Everyone had come out onto the street. Merlin even saw Uther. True, he was only sitting weakly on a chair, but he was talking to some of the knights, and joining them in the celebration. Music filled the air. Drummers struck out a bold rhythm that mimicked that of Merlin’s heart. The common people danced, flirting and laughing with their partners, whilst nobles stood resplendent in their silks and jewels, watching proceedings with a detached pride. All around was noise, raucous chatter blended with the high notes of the flute, the clatter of feet and the tuneless song of the drunks. _I have no idea_ , he realised, and that thought scared and thrilled him with equal measure.

Finally he saw a familiar face in the crowd, and made his way towards it.

“Merlin!” Lancelot called, as he caught sight of him.

The knight was sat on a crate at the side of the street with Percival, where they had a good view of the dancing.

“Where did you get to?” Lancelot asked.

“Oh, I was with Gaius. But an old friend of his has come to Camelot to see him now, so I got away.”

“We’ve been watching Leon and Elyan dancing,” said Lancelot, “Look.”

He pointed to the knights, who had been seized by two of the castle maids intent on getting their hands on a man in uniform. The maids were looking far happier than Sir Leon, who was inanely struggling through the dance, and Elyan was looking even happier than them, as he was laughing at Leon’s valiant attempts to keep up.

“How come you’re not joining in?” Merlin asked.

“This is too funny to miss!”

Merlin didn’t quite believe him. He knew he was still missing Gwen. But he couldn’t have her now – she had shown her loyalty to Arthur. Their affection for one another was obvious.

“Do you know where Gwaine is?” Merlin asked casually.

“Looking for you, I think.”

 _Looking for me?_ That had to be a good sign. _Unless he wants me to help him move out._

“I wanted to dance,” said Percival who had only just caught up with Merlin’s first question, “But no-one asked me.”

“Percival, the man’s supposed to ask the lady,” Merlin explained.

“Oh. I never knew that!”

Merlin wasn’t surprised.

“See those girls over there?” he said, pointing to a cluster of the creatures standing on the edge of things, looking rather forlorn, “Why don’t you go ask one of them? Same goes for you, Lancelot. There’s not a girl here who doesn’t like the look of you.”

The group of girls were a mixed lot – among them were a few who were plain and hadn’t been asked to dance, one who was pretty and didn’t want to dance, and some younger ones who were being taken care of by their older sisters, rather excited after all the sugar they’d just eaten, and one little girl, who could have only been about eight, tugging at her sister’s sleeve, desperate to join in.

Lancelot cuffed him on the shoulder.

“I’m not what they’re looking for,” he said bashfully.

“Hmm?” said Merlin, giving him a look.

Lancelot’s expression changed.

“What? Do you think I’m – handsome?”

Merlin grinned impishly.

“You’re gorgeous. Go get ‘em.”

The young man hesitated.

“Go!” said Merlin, pushing him in the girls’ direction.

The whole group’s countenance instantly changed as Lancelot approached. The girls smiled sweetly and batted their eyelashes, but it was the youngest of all, the little girl who wanted to dance but whose sister had said was too young, who he asked to dance. Merlin smiled as he gallantly led her onto the dancefloor. She was bursting with excitement, and evidently taken with this gracious knight. It was very sweet. _All the girls are going to want Lancelot after this. Handsome, brave, and caring. He’ll be fighting them off._ Getting Lancelot to dance, even if it was only with a little girl, was a step in the right direction, away from Guinevere. It did him no good to dwell on the past. He should be having fun without her. And it did not go unnoticed by Merlin that the little girl’s sister was the pretty lass who had refused all her would-be partners.

 _Honestly, what am I, a good Samaritan?_ Merlin certainly had found himself trying to fix everyone’s problems this Yuletide. The whole celebration had been to bring some fun to Camelot, and now he’d supported Gwen and Arthur, returned Gaius’ lost love to him and helped Lancelot get over his ex. _Is it my turn now?_

“Where have you been hiding?”

Merlin turned round, and got his answer.

“Mary,” he said, smiling.

_That’s a no then._

“Hello handsome,” she said, grinning.

_Oh no. Please don’t ask me to dance._

“Fancy a dance, then?”

“Mary!” exclaimed Percival, ever one step behind.

The barwoman nodded a greeting to him, before turning back to Merlin expectantly.

“Well?”

An idea hit Merlin like a ton of bricks, (but thankfully not as painfully). He drew Mary to one side.

“You know, Mary, I think you’re great,” he told her, to her obvious enjoyment, before adding, “But I don’t think I’m the one for you. I’m only a boy. I’m not strong or brave. I couldn’t fight for you or protect you. You need a real man.”

“Don’t say that,” said Mary kindly.

“Have you seen the Yule log?” asked Merlin, changing tact.

“How could I miss it? It’s huge! It must have taken at least half a dozen men just to fell it.”

Merlin shook his head.

“Only one.”

Mary gasped.

“Who was it?”

“Our very own Sir Percival,” said Merlin, leading her back to the knight.

She looked up at the tall man with fresh eyes.

“Well I never,” she said, “I never knew you were so _strong_.”

Percival smiled, confused as to what had effected this change, but pleased all the same.

“That’s not all he’s done,” Merlin added, “Once he dislodged a great heap of rocks to block the path of Cenred’s immortal men. It held them back for hours. We’d never have escaped without his help.”

“What else can you do, big man?” Mary asked Percival flirtatiously.

“Well,” he replied, “I can do this.”

With that, he slung an arm around Mary and lifted her up, holding her in his arms. _Lord. He really is strong._ Having literally swept Mary off her feet, Percival carried her onto the dancefloor. They were perhaps the least coordinated couple, but at least they seemed to be having fun.

Merlin looked at his friends proudly. _Well, that’s them sorted out nicely. Save the best ‘til last, I hope._ With a newfound determination at seeing his friends’ happiness, Merlin hurried through the swathes of people, searching for a certain knight. Eventually, he saw him. He was moving through the crowd, evidently looking for someone. _He’s looking for me,_ Merlin realised with a jolt.

“Gwaine!” he called, “Gwaine!”

Gwaine heard his voice, and followed it until his eyes rested on him.

“Merlin!”

They fought their way to each other.

“I’ve been looking for you,” said Gwaine breathlessly.

“So have I.”

He took Gwaine’s hand.

“Come on,” he said, and lead him away.

Merlin was surprised by his own boldness as he pulled Gwaine away from the crowds. He liked the feel of his hand as they weaved down the roads. His heart thumped and his feet slapped against the cobbles and his throat burned in the cold air, and he hoped that maybe, tonight, love might exist.


	10. A Time to Act

Finally, Merlin and Gwaine stopped at a quiet, narrow street far away from the party. For a while they stood, catching their breath, and Merlin allowed his hand to slip from Gwaine’s with some reluctance.

“So, er,” said Merlin hesitantly, “What did you want to see me about?”

“Your Yuletide present.”

Merlin could feel the tension between them as Gwaine brought that topic up.

“Oh. Yeah. You leaving, that’s your present to me.”

Gwaine swished his hair off his face. _Damn that looks soft._

“Didn’t you like your present?”

Merlin’s eyes flicked up to look at him. He bit his lip. Shook his head.

“I don’t want to be away from you.”

“I’d still be in Camelot. It’s not that far. Or can’t you be bothered to walk?”

_I don’t want to walk to your house to see you. I want to wake up and for you to be there, right where I left you._

“I don’t want to have to.”

“Fine. I’ll come visit you, lazy.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Of course not. You don’t say what you mean.”

It wasn’t a criticism. It was an acknowledgement, an understanding.

“Sometimes I do,” said Merlin quietly, “But sometimes it’s best not to say. Sometimes it’s best to _do_.”

“A time to talk and a time to act.”

Gwaine shot him a glance with those dark eyes.

“So, which is now?”

Merlin knew the answer before he said it.

“Act,” he said, leant forwards and kissed him.

It was short and innocent, and their lips were the only part of them that touched. Merlin studied Gwaine’s expression nervously, hoping that he had done the right thing. Gwaine smiled at him, and they needed no words. He pulled his arms around Merlin’s waist and kissed him. It was gentle, and Merlin knew that he was making an effort not to push him too hard or scare him away. _Suits me fine. We’ll just save the filth for later._ Merlin sometimes worried that he secretly had a very dirty mind. Gwaine really was bringing it out in him. Merlin pulled away and looked up at Gwaine, _his_ Gwaine, and couldn’t stop smiling.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” said Gwaine.

“Yeah, that and more besides, going by what you said this time a fortnight ago.”

Gwaine smiled reminiscently as he remembered it.

“At first, I thought that was just a good dream. Then you started acting weird and I realised it was real. Well, the first bit was.”

_The first bit?_

“It – went on?” Merlin asked.

Gwaine widened his eyes.

“Mmm,” he said indulgently.

Merlin decided not to go into that right then. He did have a serious question for Gwaine.

“Why are you leaving?”

Gwaine shrugged.

“I can’t stay at Gaius’ forever. And I admit I did want to see what you’d think about it. I didn’t know if you cared about me.”

“Now you do.”

They both knew the unspoken question at the end of that sentence. _Now you do, so why don’t you stay?_

“It would be a bit awkward with Gaius, wouldn’t it?” said Gwaine, wincing at the thought, “‘Morning, Gwaine, did you sleep well?’ ‘No, not really,’ ‘Yes, I heard.’”

Merlin laughed, but he knew Gwaine did have a point. It would be a bit stifling to have his mentor, who was practically a father to him, always around, always _knowing_.

“ _Gwaine_ ,” he said in mock horror, “What _are_ you implying we’ll be doing?”

“Would you like me to answer you alphabetically, or chronologically?”

Merlin couldn’t stop himself from blushing. He did _like_ Gwaine’s forwardness. But he couldn’t stop himself from being a little embarrassed by all this flirting.

Gwaine sensed this and took a step back.

“Before I forget,” he said, rummaging around in his pockets, “I wanted to give you this.”

He pulled something out of his pocket and dropped it into Merlin’s hand. He held it up to look at it. It was a necklace, a simple cord with an irregular disk thread through it. Gwaine held out the necklace around his own neck.

“It’s like mine,” he said, “That’s your real Yuletide present.”

Merlin smiled and put the necklace on over his head.

“Thankyou.”

“I got Elyan to make it. You’d better keep it on under your neckerchief though.”

“So no-one sees and realises our forbidden love?” Merlin asked melodramatically.

“I was more thinking so there’s a part of me next to your skin.”

Gwaine tucked the necklace under Merlin’s neckerchief, taking a little more time than was completely necessary. The cold metal rested against Merlin’s chest, over his heart. Gwaine looked at him seriously.

“Merlin?”

“Yes?”

“Did I ever mention you have beautiful eyes?”

 

* * *

 

The rest of the evening passed in a happy blur. Merlin and Gwaine rejoined their friends, who perhaps noticed they were walking a little closer together and looking at each other a little more than usual. Alice and Gaius were with them, dancing as they had long ago, when they were young and newly in love. When they saw the boys, the old couple smiled knowingly at Merlin, and he felt a little guilty of his previous lack of faith. Gwaine said he was going to be responsible and not get drunk, but you can guess how that went. Merlin was a little tipsy himself when they staggered home late that evening (or rather, early that morning). Gaius and Alice had already turned in for the night.

“We need to be very quiet,” said Merlin as they stepped into Gaius’ chambers, swaying slightly.

His voice was a loud stage whisper, the effects of alcohol winning over his attempt to be quiet. Gwaine knocked into a chair and fell heavily onto the table.

“ _SSH!_ ” said Merlin loudly.

Gwaine laughed, bent over the table.

“I fell over a chair!” he giggled.

“You idiot.”

“I didn’t see it!”

“Yeah, it just ran straight at you. Want me to kiss it better?” Merlin offered, propping him up.

“Mmm, yes please,” said Gwaine, his voice dripping with flirtatiousness.

Merlin kissed him clumsily, and perhaps a little too enthusiastically, as Gwaine nearly fell over backwards. They laughed as they stumbled about, knocking a few more things over.

“You are veery drunk,” said Merlin.

“So are you.”

“And whose fault izzat?” asked Merlin, his speech slurred.

“I’m such a bad influence. You’re too innocent. It’s kind of… sexy.”

Gwaine sidled his way closer to Merlin, fingers playing with his neckerchief.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

They laughed, but Gwaine was still close to him, silently persistent.

“You get so turned on when you’re drunk,” Merlin observed.

“Nah, it’s just you.”

Gwaine didn’t kiss him, instead teasing him by keeping his face inches away from Merlin’s. _You shouldn’t play with your food._ Gwaine pressed himself against Merlin, pushing him backwards.

“You know what I’ve always liked about you, Merlin? Your neckerchiefs. Someday, you should wear a neckerchief, and nothing else.”

“I think I might get put in the stocks for that,” Merlin said, “Again.”

When he’d first come to Camelot, he’d ended up in the stocks almost every other week, but after an intense period of fruit-pelting, Arthur stopped using it to punish him, as he’d actually started to enjoy it. At some point here their thought processes got a little blurred.

“You’ve done it before?” Gwaine asked, intrigued.

“Yeah, Arthur kept doing it to me.”

“He got you naked?”

“No. He put me in the stocks.”

Gwaine pulled a face.

“I guess if you like it rough…”

“No, it wasn’t like that!” Merlin protested.

“Shame. I quite liked the picture in my head.”

“Me and Arthur?”

“No! Just you, naked in the stocks.”

Merlin thought about it.

“You want me naked in the stocks? Kinky.”

Merlin had to stop walking backwards away from Gwaine, as they’d reached the wall.

 “Not really,” said Gwaine, his hands either side of Merlin’s shoulders, “I only want you.”

“Good, ‘cause I don’t think Arthur would let us use the stocks for that.”

Gwaine wasn’t paying much attention to what Merlin had said, as he’d finally given in and had started kissing him impatiently.

“Mmf…” mumbled Merlin, “I don’t think –”

Gwaine shut him up with a kiss, hard and pressing that left him breathless.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” he asked, his voice low, “Want to see what I can do to you? Or do you… you know… I would…”

He fought to speak clearly, but stumbled on his words.

“Eurgh… I…”

Then he collapsed onto Merlin. The boy fell backwards onto the hard floor, cushioning Gwaine’s fall. He squashed the air from Merlin’s lungs, and the servant gasped for air. He looked up at the knight. His body was limp and his eyes were shut.

“Gwaine?”

There was no response, so Merlin slapped his face just to be sure.

“Gwaine?”

Again, nothing. He had passed out. It was probably just as well, but Merlin didn’t see it like that at the time. He shoved Gwaine off him. _Some things never change._


	11. DIY

“You were right. It isn’t anything fancy.”

“It has potential.”

“I only wonder how much,” Merlin said, as he cast his gaze around the house.

It had walls a nasty shade of brown and boarded-up windows and a floor that needed scrubbing. The rooms felt empty and cold, and far too big. It hadn’t been inhabited for years, and no-one wanted to live in the run-down home. That was why it was going cheap.

“You really don’t like it?” asked Gwaine.

As Merlin stood in the old kitchen, Gwaine sighed and hugged him from behind, arms around his waist. Merlin leant closer, getting comfortable.

He tried to look at the house as Gwaine saw it. It was big, for one, big enough for a whole family in fact (though the likelihood of a few little pairs of feet about the house was highly unlikely, unless they found out it was infested with mice). The walls were ugly, but once they’d been whitewashed, they would look bright and fresh. The floor only needed a wash, and Merlin had done that enough times. And though it was empty now, it wouldn’t be once some furniture was in it.

“No,” said Merlin, considering it, “It’s not too bad. Just have to do a bit of spring cleaning, is all.”

“It’s not spring.”

“Then we can get in there early!”

“It’s going to be a lot of work, isn’t it?” said Gwaine, groaning.

“Do you want this or not?”

The knight kissed him on the cheek, stubble brushing against his smooth skin.

“You know I do.”

“Good!” said Merlin, jumping away from him, “We’d better get started then!”

An hour later, and the house was full of volunteers. Lancelot was helping Merlin scrub the floor, Leon and Elyan were painting the walls, Percival was using his powers of obliteration and tearing down the wooden planks nailed across the windows, and Gwaine was piling them up neatly, a job also known as Making Sure Percival Doesn’t Destroy Everything. As the elites of the YFDC stormed their way through the house, Merlin found it hard to believe it was New Year’s Eve tomorrow, and only a handful of days had passed since Yuletide. So much had changed since that fateful evening. The New Year was going to be a new stage of life, for him, for his friends, for the whole of Camelot. Merlin scrubbed the floor quite happily. True, his knees were sore, his back ached and his arms were sticky with soap, but he did have a good view of Gwaine from where he was kneeling at the far side of the room.

Lancelot nudged Merlin.

“Eyes down, Merlin,” he said playfully.

The servant did as he was told, embarrassed that he couldn’t hide his emotions from anyone anymore. Not now he and Gwaine were… what should he call it? Sweethearts? Lovers?

“So,” said Lancelot quietly, though there really was no need to be so secretive due to the sounds of scrubbing, nailing, ripping and talking that filled the room, “How are you and Gwaine?”

“Good,” Merlin said guardedly.

“Just _good_?” Lancelot said, adding cheekily, “Isn’t he, er, _satisfactory_?”

“Satisfactory?” Merlin asked, confused.

“In bed.”

Merlin dropped the brush. _Why does everyone think that Gwaine took my virginity? He actually hasn’t._ Merlin and Gwaine’s relationship was a lot more innocent than everyone seemed to think it was. There had been hugs, there had been kisses, but only a few of both and nothing more (other than some truly shameless flirting from Gwaine’s part). Merlin could tell that Gwaine was practicing restraint. Gwaine knew that all of this was new for the manservant, and was letting him take his time. Merlin was grateful for his unspoken understanding. But sometimes he did just want Gwaine to stuff that and _take_ him. Gwen was the only one who believed that he hadn’t done that already, because Merlin had reluctantly promised to tell her _when it happened_. He didn’t know what was scarier – his first time or telling Gwen about it.

“We, er, haven’t, erm, well…” he stammered.

Lancelot grinned.

“Oh he _is_. And more than just satisfactory, going by the colour of your face.”

Merlin tried to speak, but his mouth couldn’t form a sentence properly.

Lancelot smiled disarmingly.

“You are happy, aren’t you Merlin?”

Merlin knew that he was serious.

“Yes,” he breathed, “I think I’m happier than… I’ve ever been. I know that sounds weird, but it just feels so right, like I belong with Gwaine. I can’t describe it, it’s just the most… I don’t, I, uh –”

“I was looking for a short answer.”

Their eyes met and they laughed.

“But seeing as you went on so long, little lovebird, I know you truly are happy with him.”

“So, how are you and Lily?” Merlin asked, after a pause.

Lily was the pretty sister of the little girl Lancelot had danced with at the Yuletide Feast. He’d told Merlin that after he’d danced a few rounds with her kid sister, Lily had consented to dance with him, despite turning everyone else down.

“I don’t know. Little Sophie says that she fancies me.”

“She’s probably right,” Merlin said, a hint of teasing in his voice, “Children can see these things.”

“They’re children, Merlin, not matchmakers.”

“Cupid was a baby.”

“And you just act like one.”

“I do not!”

“Mmm, considering what you do with Gwaine, I’d have to agree with you on that score.”

Lancelot elbowed Merlin again, and a nudge war began, during which very little of the floor was scrubbed.

“Are you two scrubbing that floor?” Leon called, a paintbrush in one hand.

“Yes, mum,” Merlin and Lancelot chorused.

“Do you _have_ to keep on calling me that?” Leon asked, exasperated.

“Yes, mum,” everyone said.

Leon pouted and attacked the wall with his paintbrush while the others watched on, smirking.

There was a knock on the door, accompanied by a call of: “Hello!” The door swung open and a woman stood in the doorway, carrying a basket.

“I brought you all some lunch.”

At the word ‘lunch’, everyone dropped what he was doing, suddenly ravenously hungry.

“Thankyou very much, miss,” Leon said politely.

Everyone else merely grabbed a bread roll from her basket, occasionally with a mumbled ‘thanks’.

“Please, call me Alice,” said the old woman kindly, adding, “And that includes you, Gwaine.”

“What’s he been calling you?” Elyan asked.

Alice shot Gwaine a dark look.

“Nana,” she said coldly.

“It was affectionate!” Gwaine objected.

“I’m not that old!”

“Well,” said Gwaine, munching at the bread, “You kind of are.”

Alice thought about it.

“I guess so. I am old enough to be a grandmother!”

She laughed.

“People must think I’m crazy. A woman my age, about to be married. And for the first time!”

“Oh no,” Leon said with feeling, “Merlin told me your story. I found it deeply moving. The way you never gave up hope is so inspiring.”

Alice blinked.

“Thankyou for that contribution,” she said, a little lost.

“You’ll make a beautiful bride,” said Lancelot.

“I’ve never seen Gaius so happy,” Merlin added.

“Yeah, you’re quite a catch, Nana!” said Gwaine, spoiling the mood somewhat.

“Thankyou my dears,” smiled Alice, adding less kindly, “And Gwaine.”

“We’re all looking forward to the wedding,” said Elyan.

“I love weddings,” sighed Leon, “So romantic. I might cry.”

“Why?” asked Gwaine, “Because it’s so happy, or because the decorations aren’t right?”

Everyone chuckled, remembering Leon’s devotion to the Cause as leader of the YFDC.

“I’d better be off,” said Alice, seeing that the lunch had been demolished in the space of half a minute, “I have a lot to do.”

“Thankyou for the food,” said Merlin gratefully.

“Oh, you’re welcome. Anything I can do to help you get _him_ out of the house.”

 _Him_ was of course Gwaine.

“Goodbye, my dears,” said Alice, “And Gwaine.”

The boys called a goodbye to Alice (Gwaine using the term ‘See ya, Nana!’), before resuming their work.

“I can’t believe Uther let Alice stay in Camelot,” said Lancelot, as he and Merlin restarted cleaning the stone floor, “After what she did.”

Merlin shrugged.

“He was grateful Gaius nursed him back to health,” he said, “Not that many people thought he’d ever recover. But look at him now. He’s good as new.”

It was true. Uther’s health had stayed steady, with very little improvement, under Gaius’ care, but after the Yuletide Feast he had come on in leaps and bounds. Perhaps it had something to do with a talented healer called Alice. It was a fitting atonement, Merlin thought. When Uther had offered Gaius any reward he liked in return for his service, he only asked for one thing – he wanted Alice’s name to be cleared. Uther agreed, and now the couple were finally getting married in the spring.

“But by law she should be burned at the stake,” said Lancelot.

“By law, Gwaine should be banished from Camelot under pain of death. By law, you shouldn’t be a knight,” said Merlin, “It seems not all laws are just.”

Lancelot laughed.

“Since when were you so wise, my friend?”

_Somewhere between the road out of Ealdor and here._

“So tell me, wise Merlin,” said Lancelot, “If Gaius and Alice are getting hitched, and you and Gwaine are getting off, why aren’t you moving in here?”

Merlin sighed. He wanted to do just that, even more so now he was here, and everything was starting to come together. The thought of living with Gwaine now they were together was, well, terrifying and exciting and fun. Merlin was afraid to ask. Everything was working out for him and Gwaine and he didn’t want to spoil it by rushing. Living together permanently seemed like a big step. Merlin wasn’t sure if they were both ready for… all it would entail.

“I don’t know,” Merlin said, “I do want to. I’m just a little nervous about it all.”

“It’s obvious that’s what you both want,” said Lancelot, “Just you’re afraid to ask and he’s afraid to offer.”

It was the same when it came to _going further_ , only Gwaine was afraid to ask, and Merlin was afraid to offer. Though it was obvious they both wanted to.

“Gwaine doesn’t want to pressure you,” Lancelot added, “He’s a thoughtful lover, Merlin – well, he might not have been in the past, but he is to you.”

“I think you’re the wise one, Lancelot,” said Merlin, “Understanding the intricacies of love.”

“I think you understand the _practical aspects_ of it a little better.”

Merlin hit him, but it was only a light tap. He knew how good a fighter Lancelot was.

“I’ll ask him,” Merlin decided.

“Awh,” said Lancelot, clapping a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, “I’m helping you make your love-nest!”

“Less giggling, more scrubbing,” said Leon sternly.

“Yes, mum.”

 

* * *

 

By the end of the day, the house was finished. Once the basic building tasks had been done, Merlin had sent Leon to market with nothing more than a budget Gwaine had agreed on and the vague instruction to buy furniture. Leon really was the best person to send – he was organised, and decided on what he needed and bought it. He even managed to negotiate a few prices down. After all, being a knight of Camelot did have its perks. He returned with a cartload of things and money to spare. As they arranged it all round the house, it was clear that he’d bought just the right sort of thing – practical and well-made, nothing too fussy or extravagant. Well, actually, there was one extravagant item – the bed. It was huge, and had to be dismantled just to get it into the house and up the stairs.

“It was on sale,” Leon explained as they tried to fit it back together again, “So I got in quick.”

Merlin decided to pretend he believed that story, as the truth was doubtless far more disturbing. He made the bed, as Arthur’s was about that size and he did it all the time, and because Percival had offered to do it and that would just end in feathery carnage.

The whole house was much cosier by sundown. Lancelot had cleaned out the chimney (something he later came to regret when he emerged completely covered in soot), and Percival had been trusted to light a fire with the planks of wood he’d torn off from the windows. Merlin had put a pot of soup on to cook, and now the house was full of warmth and the smell of the simmering stew. There were still a lot of things to sort out – cutlery, crockery, curtains, rugs, bedsheets, towels – but already it felt like home. Gwaine promised the army of knights that he would buy them all a drink or three down the tavern soon, and they departed happily, after a sterling day’s work.

Merlin did not leave with them. He lingered behind with the pretence of checking on his soup. Gwaine bent down and kissed the top of his head as he sat by the fire, and Merlin caught his hand and stood up to kiss him, and somehow ended up sat on Gwaine’s lap.

“Do you like it better now, then?” asked Gwaine.

“It’s great. It feels… like home.”

Merlin hoped this would give Gwaine a nudge.

“It is your home.”

_That was easy._

“You’ll always be welcome here, Merlin.”

_OK, maybe not._

“Mmm, it is kind of crowded back at home at the moment,” said Merlin.

“Well, hopefully it won’t be now I’m gone.”

Gwaine really seemed to be missing the hints tonight.

“I don’t know. You know what they say, two’s company, three’s a crowd…”

He was dropping hints so heavily it was like throwing a brick at Gwaine’s head.

“Well then,” said Gwaine, “You come over any time you like. Give Gaius and Alice a bit of space.”

_Stuff the hints, I just want to throw a brick at Gwaine’s head._

“We could have dinner,” Gwaine added.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And… breakfast?” Merlin asked hopefully.

“Oh no. You don’t want to miss out on Gaius’ breakfasts. I hear he makes a mean porridge.”

His skirting round the question annoyed Merlin. Up until now, there hadn’t been any opportunity for anything to happen. (Well, there had, but Merlin responded in the negative to the “There’s a broom cupboard over there…” line.) Now there was the opportunity, but Gwaine seemed to lack the motivation.

“Just Gaius and Alice are going to be married soon,” Merlin went on, “They might want me gone for a bit more than an evening. Like, a week or something.”

Gwaine shrugged.

“I hope you don’t mind sleeping on the floor. I’ve only got the one bed.”

“It is a very big bed though…”

“You seem very forward tonight,” said Gwaine, “Does DIY really do it for you or something?”

“No,” said Merlin, “ _You_ really do it for me.”

“Good answer.”

Gwaine played with Merlin’s neckerchief, as had become his habit.

“So do you want to tell Gaius you’re moving in with me?” he asked casually.

Merlin hit him on the shoulder.

“I don’t believe you!” he cried, “You knew what I was trying to ask all along and you acted like you were all innocent!”

Gwaine laughed.

“I’m sorry. I just really like it when you’re suggestive.”

“That’s no excuse!”

“Well, are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Going to tell Gaius you want to move in with me?”

Merlin thought about it.

“I could tell him tomorrow.”

“When do you think he’ll let you go? End of the week?”

“Probably,” said Merlin, “But he doesn’t have to know yet…”

“What?”

Merlin looked down innocently.

“I could just, I don’t know, not come home tonight. Wouldn’t do any harm.”

“Won’t Gaius come looking for you?” asked Gwaine.

“No. He knows I’m with you.”

“Surely that means he’ll just worry more about your personal safety.”

“True, but it also means he won’t come looking. Not after what happened last time.”

Gwaine smiled.

“I like your way of thinking.”

“Even though it means someone doesn’t want to see you naked?”

“Mmm. It’s New Year tomorrow,” said Gwaine, “We’ve got to stay up ‘til midnight to see it in.”

“That’s quite a few hours away,” Merlin said slowly, “We’ll have to do something to kill all that time.”

“Play party games?”

“I was thinking something else…”

Merlin walked his fingers up Gwaine’s arm.

“Oh?” asked Gwaine.

Then Merlin gave him a look with those big blue eyes of his.

“Oh. _Oh_ …”

Gwaine looked at him seriously.

“Really? I don’t want to push you or pressure you or penetrate you,” Gwaine stopped and widened his eyes, “I don’t mean that last one, I er, oh dear, ha, sorry, er, about that, I…”

Merlin laughed. For once it was Gwaine slipping up on his words, not him.

“I meant that, I er, wasn’t trying, uh, I wanted to, not,” Gwaine stumbled on, getting more and more flustered, “You see, I was, mm… oh stuff it, let’s be having you!”

Gwaine gave up and kissed Merlin hard. The boy, a little taken aback, jumped in surprise, and the chair overbalanced. They landed on the floor, Gwaine falling onto Merlin with a heavy thud.

“Hello,” said Gwaine, who had landed inches away from Merlin’s face.

“I don’t think chairs like us,” Merlin squeaked, trying to catch his breath.

Gwaine didn’t really help as then he resumed kissing him. Merlin squeaked urgently until he stopped.

“What is it?” asked the knight breathlessly.

“It’s just, you’ve got a bed,” said Merlin, “Maybe… we _should_ use it?”

“Good idea.”

Gwaine stood up and hefted Merlin up after him, swinging the boy into his arms.

“And you did just clean that floor,” Gwaine added, running up the stairs with him.

Taking the house into consideration wasn’t really the sexiest thing, but it worked well enough for Merlin.

Gwaine threw him down on the bed and lay down beside him, holding him close.

“OK,” said Gwaine, “I, er, I guess you don’t… know much about this.”

“A little.”

“Well, I’ll be gentle. And if you want to stop or –”

And that was when Merlin did something Gwaine really wasn’t expecting. Gwen’s embarrassing talk with him really did come into its own. She said he could surprise Gwaine – and that he truly did.

 

* * *

 

Merlin felt a thrill when he woke up. Sunlight was streaming through the open window, resting prettily on the man next to him. He felt Gwaine’s arms pulled around his body, his leg resting between Merlin’s. Gwaine’s smooth hair was sprawled over the bedcover. Merlin couldn’t resist the urge to touch it. He’d found out just how soft it was last night. For a second, he almost thought that it was perfectly innocent, like that first time they’d woken up together… And then he remembered. It really wasn’t innocent. Merlin grinned to himself. No, it was perfectly filthy. Gwaine stirred, his eyes opening.

“Merlin?”

“Good morning.”

Gwaine rubbed his eyes, slow to wake up.

“Merlin…” Gwaine breathed, “I, er – did we just –?”

“Yeah.”

Gwaine smiled.

“Mmm. I remember now.”

He rolled over, onto Merlin, and looked down at him.

“Where the Hell did you learn _that_?”

Merlin shrugged. The truth wasn’t really all that sexy, so it was probably best to keep an air of mystery around it.

“Well, however you learnt it, we _are_ doing that again.”

Merlin smiled.

“I love you.”

It was Gwaine who said it first. Merlin’s heart squeezed with happiness.

“I love you too.”

He meant it.


End file.
